Heaven and Hell
by Abundant E
Summary: She loved him, despite knowing what he would become. He was her brother, her older brother, the one she went to with her problems. Yet there are enemies everywhere, there are expectations. The weight of the village rests in the balance. OC-Insert, Semi AU
1. Chapter 1

**One**

The compound was silent. Normally, a flurry of shinobi would be swarming through every minute — some patrolling, others giving reports and many simply loitering around. Yet now the only footsteps I could hear were muted, purposefully quietened.

It was an ominous sign. But I supposed here, in this world, child birth was something far more worrying and concerning, especially when someone was bordering on three weeks late. I couldn't express my worry for two reasons, though, despite the fact that the woman in question was technically my mother.

One: Despite being a perfectly healthy twenty one year old, I was stuck in the body of a nearly two year old, meaning I wasn't meant to quite understand what was going on.

Two: In a sense, I was too disconnected from this mother to care. Even though she was the first person I saw after I went through the horrible sensation of a disastrous drunken car crash with a friend on a rather wild night out and died. Her presence had been comforting, mildly, after vicious pain and then complete darkness. But after that, I had felt so much shock at my situation that I made little attempt to start some sort of relationship.

Although the only relationship a twenty one year old stuck in an infant's body and a mother could have is an embarrassing one, consisting of breast-feeding and a weird medieval-esque version of diapers.

So even as I was forced to remain in my room, my restlessness didn't stem from worry but rather a need to run around the compound like a hooligan, because that was what children could do, even if their father was important.

And I wasn't the only one running around like a hooligan. In my old life, I hadn't had any siblings. It had been me and my parents.

Now, I had three older brothers and from what I could recall, another one on the way. The biggest shock, though, hadn't exactly been the fact that I had three older brothers but rather who exactly those older brothers were. Or at least one of them.

Reincarnation in itself is horrifying and a _what the fuck_ moment by itself. Being reincarnated into a ridiculous television show is a _what the_ actual _fuck_ moment. Especially when somehow, you end up in some weird medieval-esque time period and your older brother is sort of the main antagonist and just a bit of a raging psychopath.

At least from what I could remember. _Naruto_ wasn't one of those shows you watched openly and proudly in your uni years.

But nonetheless, I was born Uchiha Kiyomi, younger sister of Uchiha Madara. Somehow. And even though in the future, my brother is meant to be a raging war driven man, for now he was just an idiotic three year old, confused as to why his mother was ignoring him.

He would regularly hoon around the corridors of the compound, his footsteps somehow surprisingly loud for such a small boy. He would bang on my door, screaming at the top of his lungs for me to come out despite the fact that I could barely walk and most of the time I was accompanied by an uptight Uchiha woman called Saori.

"Kiyo-chan!" he would shout, sliding open the door to my room with a loud _bang_. Saori would glare, as she was usually in the middle of explaining something mundane to me or reading me a ridiculous story.

Somehow, though, this three-year-old messy haired boy would distract Saori in one way or another, and next minute we were outside, lounging lazily on the roof of the compound and staring at the forest around us.

Madara would then usually instigate some prank or another, simple things such as replacing some of the Uchiha servant's make up with dirt, or stealing things from the kitchen.

It was even better when my other older two brothers were around. I didn't recall them from any memory I had of _Naruto_ , therefore unlike Madara, I hadn't felt any unease or apprehension towards them in the beginning.

Takeshi was the eldest and he was everything Madara was not. Madara's hair curled viciously around his face at all sorts of angles, whereas Takeshi's was dead straight. Madara yelled and stomped his way through the compound, whereas Takeshi walked with the grace of a noble princess.

Despite only being nine, Takeshi was on the front lines of a vicious and ridiculous never-ending war. And even though I was meant to only be nearly two years old, whenever I saw my baby faced 'older brother' return home after nearly two weeks of absence, with bruises littering his body and dried blood clinging to his skin and clothes, I wanted nothing more than to put him into bed and refuse to let him leave.

With Jin, the second eldest, it was different. I felt no need to coddle him because he was so vibrant and energetic that he almost felt untouchable. Though he wasn't on the front lines, I had overheard enough conversation and had a decent grasp on Japanese to gather that he still went out on missions of some sort. Jin, just like Takeshi, would return to the compound after a long week, dried blood and dirt sticking to him. But his smile would be so wide and bright, as if he were completely unaffected.

Of course he wasn't unaffected, though, but in the mind of a twenty one year old who had never seen first hand or experienced a war, I had a daft thought that perhaps someone with a strong mentality could just not care.

Those weeks, however scant, when they were at the compound were some of the best. It was even better before the weeks of silence as my mother in this life, Hana, was still able to happily walk around and look after us. Dinners were loud and energetic, filled with conversation. Though my father would rarely join us, it never mattered. Even when the birth date of my next sibling drew closer and then completely passed, Jin and Takeshi eased Madara's restlessness and my worry for his restlessness, as Hana was moved to another part of the compound to be taken care of by medics.

Jin would usually take us out to one of the many courtyards in the compound, and I would sit to the side and watch Jin guide Madara through some sort of training or another. He would then turn his attention to me, and we would run laps around the field, though it was more hobbling for me.

Takeshi went a different route, preferring more intellectual games. He would teach Madara shogi while guiding me through sets of blocks with hiragana letters inscribed in an attempt to teach me to read. It was also Takeshi who showed me what chakra was, the distinct difference between my old world and this one. I had felt it early on, running through my veins, creating a burning session that often had my going into fits of tears, which Hana struggled to manage.

Though I was sure that in all aspects, Hana was a great mother, I knew that my long silences when I was first born as I spent the first few weeks in complete shock confused her. Followed by the lengthy crying sessions when I first saw Madara and felt my chakra running through my veins, I knew that when my first birthday rolled around, she had little idea on how to deal with me, especially in regards to my vicious crying sessions when it felt my body was on fire due to chakra.

It was odd, because the moment I was born, I didn't feel it. It was like slowing gaining back feeling in a limb after it going numb. Within my first few months, _something_ began to feel different, and by the time I was around six months old, the distinct feeling of having something running through my body was obvious and painful.

By the time I got used to the sensation of chakra, I forgot about Takeshi's leaf display, not making the connection between the two. Takeshi guided me through it just after I turned two, placing a leaf on his forehead that stuck like he had applied glue. I couldn't even focus the chakra to my hand let alone channel it into a leaf, but it gave me a purpose when I lay in my bed late at night, even though I never quite got it.

Today was one of the days when Jin was at the compound, having returned from a mission. His arm was heavily bandaged, and there was exhaustion painted on his face but he still smiled brightly and agreed to take us outside.

The courtyard was empty except for the usual shinobi standing guard by the entrance, stoic and unmoving, their gaze carefully on us. I didn't feel like running amuck today due to the intense summer heat and instead lay on the grass a short distance from Jin and Madara, watching them throw kunai at a small target that hung on a nearby tree.

I had a perfect view of the inside of the compound from my spot in the courtyard. Usually, every minute or so someone would walk past the entrance, whether it be a shinobi, guard or one of the women who helped out around the compound. No one passed, though the guards remained stationed by the entrance. The steely silence that surrounded the compound due to Hana's condition was even more obvious from the outside.

Jin's laughs, Madara's angry comments and the rhythmic thump as the kunai continuously missed the targets were the only sounds.

"The angrier you get, the more you'll miss," Jin sang, his voice and tone easy going as he clapped Madara on the back.

Madara scowled, looking exactly like the petulant brat he was. "You said you were gonna help me!"

"I am. You just get too worked up! Your form and everything is fine, you just need to _relax_."

"I just need to relax? That's dumb!" Madara snapped.

Jin shook his head. "Anger clouds your vision, you just need to—"

He stopped talking, his gaze on the entrance to the courtyard.

"I just need to what?"

I looked at the entrance, staring at Saori who had joined the two Uchiha guards and was beckoning us over. Behind them, I could see clearly through the open doors into our house in the compound, where various shinobi and women were running through the visible hallway, a startling contrast to just before when not a single person had been walking by.

"Let's go inside now," Jin said, his voice quieter as he took the kunai from Madara's hand and slipped it into a pouch on his leg. "Come on," he urged when Madara continued to stand there, pouting.

Jin gave me a look that said I should come, and I struggled to get up and hobble over to Saori.

"What's going on?" Jin asked Saori, and though his tone was light I could hear the unease in his voice.

"Tajima-sama wants you, Jin-kun, in the healing room," Saori said, her voice quivering. "I'll take Madara-kun and Kiyomi-chan."

"I think they should come with me." Jin sounded oddly serious, his lips puckering as he glanced quickly between us.

Saori shook her head. "Tajima-sama was insistent."

He hesitated for a moment before kneeling down beside us, ruffling our hair. "Go with Saori-san, ok? Listen to what she has to say."

Madara scowled. "What's going on?" he demanded. "We were _training_ , Jin, you promised we would stay out all afternoon!"

Jin shook his head and gave me a look as if to say _deal with it_ before leaving us standing in the courtyard with the two guards and Saori. The lack of conversation enabled me to hear inside — the steely silence was long gone. It sounded like chaos, with the hurrying of footsteps and the shouting.

"Come along now," Saori said to us, her voice still uncertain and her cheeks flushed.

I took Madara's hand before he could say anything else and followed Saori as she led us to my room. When we entered, we both watched her as she frantically searched for toys for us to entertain ourselves with, knocking various things off my closet shelves that caused Madara to scowl even more violently.

"What's going on?" he demanded again. "Where did Jin go?"

Saori turned around, a fake smile on her face as she held up a shogi set. "Takeshi-kun has been teaching you how to play, hasn't he Madara-kun? How about we have a game?"

"I don't _want_ a game, I want to know where Jin is!"

"The healing room. I—I wasn't told anything more than that."

I looked away from Saori, knowing that she wasn't exactly lying. But she knew what was going on. Hana was dying. Or perhaps the child was dying. Either way, I didn't want to know and by the look on Madara's face, he was beginning to figure it out.

"Is mother ok?" he asked as he lost his snappish tone. "The baby. Is—"

"I don't know!" Saori said quickly. "I don't know."

I felt sorry for her in that moment. She couldn't have been older than myself, and she clearly didn't have any kids of her own and wanted nothing to do with two petulant brats in this moment.

Madara sat down, his face sullen and silent as he lay down on his futon and curled up in a ball. I felt Saori's anxious gaze on me, as if she were waiting for me to crumble and do the same thing. Instead of giving any outward reaction, I curled up next to Madara against his back, though he didn't move.

It felt like barely an hour before someone knocked on the door and Saori slid it open, revealing a man who I vaguely recognised from Tajima's council. He whispered something in her ear and I watched her face crumble even more than it already had. She looked back at us, her expression anxious and met my eye.

The man left, the door sliding shut behind him, and Saori turned her face around so as to hide her tears.

* * *

Uchiha Izuna was born mid afternoon on a hot summer day. Uchiha Hana died early evening on a hot summer day. For that entire day, the compound was a whirlwind of activity. Madara stayed in my room, lying on my futon while Jin took me out into the nursery to meet Izuna. I wasn't sure if my lack of reaction to Hana's death was normal or not. Jin didn't seem too unnerved by it, because I was not even two years old and normal nearly two year olds wouldn't be able to fully grasp what had just happened.

Jin remained stoic as we walked through the compound, passing various people hurrying around. His hand was tight around mine, the only outward indication that he was upset.

The nursery was one of the rooms that opened up into the courtyard. A young girl, barely fifteen, sat in a chair gently rocking Izuna in her arms. There was only a tuft of hair on his head, and his arms and legs were so chubby. I hadn't seen a baby in awhile, and I couldn't help but stare at Izuna and picture the image I had in mind that I remembered from _Naruto_.

Jin took Izuna into his arms and lowered him to my view so I could see him properly. His eyes weren't even open, his little face scrunched up delicately. I saw the adoration in Jin's eyes as he cradled him to his chest.

In a way, all I saw was another child for Tajima to turn into a soldier. Another child for him to destroy.

But for now, Izuna remained a blissfully small and ignorant baby, who wouldn't be tainted by this horrifying world just yet.

* * *

Uchiha Tajima was only twenty eight years old, clan head with five children and recent single father. I felt no sympathy, only a cold apathy towards him. And it was funny how, for someone who rarely saw me, he seemed to grasp and understand that within moments.

He had held me only moments after Hana had when I had been born into this world. Yet within seconds I was deposited back into my mother's arms, and I had no doubt that he returned to his desk and resumed his work as if nothing had ever happened.

Hana's death was exactly the same. The compound was stoic, in mourning for the lady of the Uchiha clan. I walked past Tajima's office, expecting it to be empty, yet there he was, pouring laboriously over scrolls piled high on his desk. He glanced up when I stood by the door, staring in.

Our eyes met, and I couldn't help but find it ridiculous and strange that this man was closer in age to me than my siblings. I wonder if part of Tajima could see that maturity in me, or if all he saw was another Madara — a petulant hooligan who caused too much trouble around the compound.

Tajima's eyes went back down to the scrolls and he continued to look over them. Various people walked past, carrying flowers and other items in preparation for the funeral. He didn't budge in the whole five minutes that I stood there, as I waited for some kind of reaction.

My grasp on Tajima's personality wasn't due to interactions but rumours and stories. His pre-clan head times, where he was one of the top shinobi of the Uchiha clan. His arranged marriage to my mother that occurred simply because he heard a mere whisper that my grandfather — who I had never met — was thinking of causing rebellion, and Tajima could not be bothered dealing with that.

In my mind, this was the man who single handedly created the Uchiha Madara I knew of.

Perhaps Tajima sensed my sudden increased disdain for him after the death of Hana. It reached a heated climax around the time of the funeral, when Tajima left early, and was not there for when we placed flowers around Hana's head inside her coffin. He was not there for her cremation, either, leaving Jin and Takeshi to deal with the inconsolable Madara. I did the only thing I could at my age and followed him and just like the previous week, I stood at the door and simply stared, conveying as much hatred as I could.

This time, Tajima put down his scroll and stood up from his desk. He walked over to me and showed a sliver of respect by kneeling down to my small level.

"Kiyomi," he said. He had never added an honorific to any of our names. "Is there something you want?"

 _A good father_. The retort was on my tongue but I didn't have the knowledge of words to say it in English. And I didn't even want a good father for me. I wanted a good father for Madara, for Takeshi, for Jin, for Izuna.

I didn't need a good father because I had one. But these four idiotic boys in a violent world of chaos did.

Instead of replying, I walked away from him. Maybe it was coincidence, but the following day I was informed that I would be receiving a tutor of sorts. Not the type my brothers had. My tutor came in the form of an elderly, overly polite woman called Mei, who wore such flamboyant kimonos and walked so straight that it hurt to look at her.

When Tajima introduced me, I felt it was a punishment.

"Someone needs to take care of your education," Tajima explained to me, while Mei stood there beside him, smiling in a nauseatingly fake way. "Your brothers have different sort of tutors. However, Mei-san is the best at what she does and I have every confidence that you will learn lots under her tutelage."

"It's lovely to meet you, Kiyomi-chan," Mei said, dropping to my level, her smile still overwhelmingly huge. "Although I must say, we do need to do something about your hair."

Above her, Tajima smiled, and perhaps I was being petty, but it seemed like a vindictive smile.

And just like that, my life settled into a horrifying routine. My first year and a half had been filled with freedom, even when Saori was monitoring my every move. Madara was always around, and he had always dragged me along into every thing he did. Now we were separated. Madara went to the courtyard to throw kunai, and I sat on the ground learning how to write _prettily_ , because there was a difference.

Izuna became my constant. Saori's new job was to look after him, and as our rooms were right next to each other, I would often peer in. Mei encouraged my interactions with Izuna. She seemed to want to draw out some maternal instinct in me, and I _did_ have a maternal instinct but not in the way she expected.

I wanted to steal Izuna away so that he would never have to deal with the shinobi life.

Izuna's first word was Kiyo. We were sitting on the floor of his room, Saori watching us absently as she sewed a kimono. He was around eight months and had so far managed little words, only sounds that could be words. Hiragana blocks were scattered around us, and I was lining them up neatly for him when he pushed them all over and laughed.

"No," I told him, beginning to rearrange them again only for him to ruin it.

He giggled, beaming up at me. "Kiyo!" he said.

I heard Satsuki pause in her sewing behind me. "What didya say?" I asked, peering closer to him.

"Kiyo!" he repeated, still giggling.

Saori gasped as she stood up, the kimono she had been sewing rustling as it hit the ground, abandoned.

"Kiyo, Kiyo, Kiyo, Kiyo!" Izuna continued to say, his excitement rising as Saori began cooing at him, cuddling him into her arms and pressing a tight kiss to his forehead.

I had never received that treatment and I was fairly certain I had said far more before the age of eight months. But I was an adult in an infant body.

For the first time, Saori turned to me and smiled. "You should go get Tajima-sama and tell him the good news, Kiyomi-chan."

In my opinion, there was no good news to tell. Babies were meant to say Mama or Papa first. I couldn't remember what my first word in this world had been, if I had purposefully made it something like that to appease Hana and not draw attention to myself.

I played the sullen and stupid two year old as I simply stared at the blocks. Saori sighed in a deliberate manner, scooping Izuna up and leaving me alone with the messily arranged pile of blocks.

Before Saori could return and give me a grand lecture on my behaviour, Mei dragged me out for a writing lesson. And as the weeks dragged out, it was common to hear Izuna's small patter of footsteps and his loud shouts of 'Kiyo!' fill the hallway. It wasn't long before he was shouting Madara's name, too, but it sounded more like Madada due to his incapability to pronounce words.

Watching Izuna grow began to fill me with jealousy. For his first birthday, he received wooden kunai. For my third birthday, I received kimonos and jewellery. Izuna had not only Saori but another teenage boy who came and seemed to help him with hand eye coordination, despite his young age. It made my days feel long and even more pointless, as I sewed patterns into materials, leaving my fingers sore and pricked, and rolled out rice balls that never were quite the right shape.

I was failing at everything Mei taught me. The only thing I succeeded in was reading and writing, which I picked up with ease due to my mental age. But my handwriting was never quite the way Mei liked it. Perhaps it was because I was so used to writing in English, but my hiragana and katakana were often loopy and sloppy, and when I began to learn kanji, it was even worse.

Takeshi pulled me aside more often than not, as if he sensed my restlessness at not achieving anything and my jealousy for Izuna's days.

One particular morning in the beginning of autumn, we were outside, leaves spread out all around us as Takeshi once again showed me how he summoned channelled chakra into the leaf and placed it on his forehead. I felt a newfound determination at this task that I had found so difficult the past three years. Izuna would probably be taught this soon, and would be expected to achieve it.

I was — or should be — better in him in all ways, due to my mentality.

Despite the heat, Takeshi and I spent the entire day outside, sweating away, only going inside for meal times as I attempted to stick the leaf onto my forehead. The sun was beginning to set when I felt the familiar flow of chakra reach my forehead, and though the flow was unstable, I picked up the leaf and placed it carefully there.

It stuck for a small second before fluttering to the ground, but it was enough.

"You did it!" Takeshi said, grinning as he took my hand in his hand. "Well done, Kiyo-chan."

I beamed at him, unable to hold in my smile, and threw my arms around him.

"Try again," he suggested, handing me another leaf. "Usually the first time is the hardest. You should be able to do it more easily now."

Once again, I placed the leaf on top of my forehead and focused my chakra into it, watching it stick for three seconds before fluttering to the ground. But the constant use of my chakra through the afternoon left me with a throbbing headache, and when the leaf hit the ground I winced as a wave of dizziness came over me.

Takeshi smiled gently at me. "We should head inside. Remember this feeling. Chakra exhaustion is highly dangerous, especially when you're on a mission."

I stared at him in confusion, wondering why he would even bother advising me such a thing. Thanks to my gender, I wouldn't ever be on a mission. Takeshi only smiled at my expression, ruffling my hair gently before he scooped me up, despite me being too big for it, and carried me inside.

When I saw Izuna for our usual after dinner play, I couldn't help but feel vindictive as I watched him fail at the hiragana blocks. He seemed to sense my mood, for he wasn't laughing as he usually did. A frown was on his face as he kept trying, glancing at me to check if he was right. I shook my head, and he would scowl.

Saori watched, and I felt her scrutinising look on both of us as our usual happy play session quickly turned disastrous, Izuna bursting into tears when he mixed up the _me_ hiragana letter with the _nu_.

"You should be more considerate, Kiyomi-chan," she said, her tone scolding as she held Izuna in her arms, rubbing his back as he babbled nonsense into her shoulder.

I said nothing, because all I had done was shake my head when he got something wrong. But he had undoubtedly sensed my mood.

Tajima called me into his office before bed, a rare occasion, as it usually only happened whenever I ran away from Mei and hid in a random courtyard somewhere. His office, in my eyes, was a daunting place. He always looked at ease and comfortable there, in his element. It didn't matter if he was ordering his children to stay with their caretaker, or praising a shinobi for killing someone. There was a reason why Uchiha Tajima was clan head, and you only had to walk into his office to see.

I was too small for the chair that sat opposite his, but I always sat in it anyway, as if trying to prove something to him.

"Kiyomi," Tajima began as he always did, which meant I never knew if what was coming was going to be a lecture or praise. "I have had three people say very different things about you today."

Perhaps it would be a rare moment of lecture _and_ praise.

"Takeshi came to me first and said that you two spent the entire afternoon practising your chakra control, and that you succeeded in the leaf technique." He paused, as if watching for my reaction. "Can you show me?"

I blinked at the strange request, watching him produce a leaf from behind a scroll and place it on my side of the desk. Normally when Tajima asked me to do something, I pretended to ignore him, but his interest in my new founded skill could lead to something more.

Trying to keep my movements casual, I picked up the leaf, feeling it in my palm as I surged chakra into it before placing it on my forehead. I felt it stick and held it there for as long as possible, counting seven seconds in my head before it wavered and I grabbed it from my forehead. When I looked at Tajima, there was no smile on his face, and I couldn't read his eyes to decipher how he felt about what I had just shown.

"I then had Mei-san tell me that you had yet to stitch straight, despite you practising every day since your third birthday. She tells me that you are the most unmotivated and sullen child she has ever had the displeasure of meeting."

I couldn't help the scowl on my face that probably proved her point.

"And finally, Saori-san informed me that she believes you're jealous of Izuna, and are being harsh towards him."

"I'm not," I said at once, the first words I had spoken since stepping into my office.

Tajima raised one eyebrow. "Ever since his first birthday, your progress in lessons has declined. You've been _more_ sullen than usual. And, based on Saori-san's knowledge, you have been cold towards Izuna for awhile now. I believe that all that points to jealousy."

Only Tajima could be so rational towards his three year old daughter.

"I'm not jealous," I said. "I'm angry. Not at him. He gets to do stuff I wanna do."

"So you take it on him?"

 _Yes_. That was probably the correct answer. And by the look on Tajima's face, he knew it too. But I pressed my lips tightly together and said nothing.

"Don't be obstinate. It's ridiculous. Why not say something instead of simply taking it out on Izuna and being horrible to everyone around you?"

"You wouldn't do anything."

"Who says that?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You gonna do something, then?"

"Yes, I am," he said, his tone devoid of any emotion. "You're going to apologise to Izuna, and then help him with his reading and writing seeing as you're so proficient in it. And then, you're going to master a straight stitch by the end of the week."

For the first time, I felt something within me surge with anger. My chakra rumbled through my body as if it were beginning to get out, my hands clenching by my sides until it felt as if my knuckles were going to pierce through my skin. But Tajima wasn't even looking at my anymore. His attention was on a scroll on his desk, and the rude dismissal rippled through me.

I walked out of the room, counting _one, two, three_ in my head to try and calm my heart. It hadn't been a lecture but a punishment. Never before had Tajima himself interfered with my life so directly.

Izuna's door was still open in his room, and I saw Saori sitting with Izuna, talking softly to him. She looked up when I paused in the doorway, her expression carefully blank, but I still saw the uncertainty flicker through her eyes as she stared up at me. Izuna looked up too, his gaze uncertain.

Instead of apologising, I walked next door into my room and made sure to slam the door extra loud. I opened my clenched hand, seeing the leaf in tatters on my palm, my anger having destroyed the only semblance of potential I had of becoming a shinobi.

* * *

 **A/N:** And...here we are. Jesus it has been awhile and part of me never thought I'd write these characters again even though I really wanted to. If you didn't know this story before, hi and welcome! If you did, welcome back to a (hopefully) better written story. I deleted the old one sometime ago and uploaded the old version on to my profile page, but I've taken down the link because I don't want to spoil any new readers and I also don't want old readers to check back to the old version to see what's gonna happen. Because though this is a rewrite, _there will be differences_. hopefully better differences! so please don't base the old version on the new one, though of course all the characters and major plot points will be similar.

Rewriting this so far (I've gotten through about 30000 words at the moment) has been really difficult, mostly because I wrote the original so long ago that I've found it incredibly difficult and almost vulnerable to myself to reread the old version. And rewriting it is even more difficult, because I have doubts about my credibility to rewrite it. But I love the characters and I love writing, so here I am.

Please please tell me what you think (if you want)! I would say my writing style has definitely changed so I think Heaven and Hell is looking very different at the moment, but I appreciate any and all feedback! and thank you so much to everyone who PM'ed me or contacted me in any way about the story. It means so much to me, I can't even begin to explain!


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

My punishment lingered out for one week, then two, then three, all because I refused to apologise to Izuna and then would purposefully do a zig zag stitch with Mei, technically proving that I _could_ indeed do a straight stitch. It didn't help that I rarely saw Madara, who Tajima was training personally, and Jin and Takeshi were constantly on missions. Part of me felt foolish for being such a brat about a simple apology when it was clear that the war outside the compound was reaching a heated climax.

But it wasn't about Izuna. I wasn't not apologising to Izuna to spite him, but rather to spite Tajima. It didn't feel like I was proving anything, though, simply because Tajima had mastered the look of indifference. Whenever I walked past his office, he would glance up for a moment, look me right in the eyes and go back to whatever he had been doing.

"This is ridiculous," Mei said in the third week, her lips pressed so tightly together that I couldn't see them. "I don't think I have ever met someone so impertinent! Impertinent means—"

"Naughty, insolent, bratty," I retorted with words I had only just learnt in Japanese, finishing my zig zag stitch. "I'm not angry at Izuna. At Ta— _f_ _ather_."

Mei looked surprised at the brief confession before she shook her head. "You are the most stubborn and foolish girl I have _ever_ had the displeasure of teaching."

I handed her my zig zag stitch and walked out.

That night, I overheard a conversation between her and Tajima while I was in my room, pretending to be asleep.

"I'm concerned about her, Tajima-sama," Mei was saying, her voice annoyingly kind. "I'm worried that Hana-san's death greatly affected her but she's not showing it."

Tajima made a contemplative noise but said nothing more.

"And I—forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, but I believe punishing her is only going to make her angrier and worse."

"That is true," Tajima said, and I waited for something else, for an excuse, but it never came. Their footsteps moved away from my bedroom door, and that was that.

Speaking to Tajima hadn't worked for Mei, and as the next few days passed where both Takeshi and Jin regularly checked on me and subtly hinted for me to apologise to Izuna, I realised that she had spoken to them, too.

"Why not?" Jin asked while I was sewing my zig zag stitches. "It's two words. In fact, you don't even have to mean them! I mean you should, obviously, Kiyo-chan, you _definitely_ should, but you don't have to mean them _yet_."

"I'm not angry at Izuna. I'm tryna prove a point."

Jin laughed, ruffling my hair. "Kiyo-chan, you will never be able to prove a point to Father. That's just the type of person he is."

It was the wrong thing to say, though he didn't realise it. That just made me _more_ keen to prove a point, to prove that I wasn't someone Tajima could boss around and make into a picture perfect female, ready for marriage.

Takeshi took a different approach.

"Apologising is sensible," he told me as I was fanning the rice to make sushi. "It dissolves conflict."

"Maybe I _want_ conflict," I retorted.

He gave me a small but sad smile, and I felt bad for my comment but didn't have it in me to apologise. In my old life, I had been a bit of a drama queen. But part of me was certain this _was_ important. I couldn't do anything if all I learnt when I was young was stitching, calligraphy and cooking. I was being a tad dramatic, and yes, it did involve me taking out some of my anger on Izuna. But that wasn't my intent.

I realised my hissy fit was reaching ridiculous points when it became obvious that Mei had also spoken to _Madara_ about me. Madara, who had as much tact as a block of wood.

"Why can't you just apologise to Izuna?" Madara asked. Unlike the others, who had confronted me while I had been training with Mei — and she had not so subtly left the room — Madara dragged me out of the compound and into the autumn air, something I appreciated.

I sighed, sick of explaining. "I'm not angry at Izuna," I repeated for the fifth time.

"I know, you're angry at Father, but honestly, you're being _annoying_." He glared at me. "Izuna keeps asking me if you hate him."

"You don't get it—"

"I _do_. You're a girl, so you can't do what we can do, and you're angry because you want to, and you're even angrier because Izuna is already getting to do stuff you couldn't even think of doing before someone would stop you."

For a moment I blinked before remembering that in his own right, Madara was a prodigy and was turning five in a month. And he was less angry and more of a brat than anything at this time. The rage that fuelled him in the future didn't exist yet.

"But _anyway_ , you're being an id—idiot," he said, stumbling over the last word slightly. "And you should stop. Because it's annoying. And I reckon Father would be more keen to let you do something if you just did what he asked."

The next morning before my calligraphy lessons with Mei, I stopped by Izuna's room, knocking on the door softly. Predictably, it was Saori who opened it, her lips pressed together when she saw me standing there.

"Kiyomi-chan," she said, her voice bitter. "Come in."

Izuna's room was a mess of an abundance of toys. Everything from the hiragana blocks to wooden kunai lay scattered across the floor, with him sitting in the middle of it, looking up at me with a mix of surprise and apprehension.

"Kiyo," he said, standing up slowly. At around eighteen months of age, he walked with efficiency, barely stumbling as he toddled over to me. I could feel Saori behind me, her gaze beating against my back.

Maybe, somehow, I _had_ gotten a little bit of Uchiha within me in my reincarnation, because standing there in front of my little brother, I found it hard to say sorry. Instead, I threw my arms around him and pulled him tightly to my chest.

"I'm—I'm sorry," I said finally, pulling away and ruffling his hair, a habit I had been given by Jin and Takeshi. "I just—I can't explain it. But I'm sorry, and I could never, ever hate you."

Even though it was a shitty apology, it could have been a speech by Martin Luther King Junior himself for the way Izuna reacted. He beamed, his grin radiating in the same way Jin's did. He threw his arms around my neck, squeezing me with surprising strength. I wondered if he understood why I had done what I did, or if he had just thought I had been angry with him.

When Izuna finally realised me and I turned to Saori, there was a rare genuine smile on her face as she stared down at me.

"I think your lesson with Mei-san is now, Kiyomi-chan," she said, however her voice was no longer bitter but soft and kind.

It was like the woman of the Uchiha clan had some insane gossip system, because when I arrived to my calligraphy lesson, Mei was beaming, and didn't launch herself into a grand lecture about the state of my handwriting once.

And then eventually, I was called in to Tajima's office before bed yet again. I didn't know why, because technically I hadn't satisfied all the criteria for his punishment — I was still doing zig zag stitches and I hadn't even attempted to teach Izuna how to read. Yet Tajima was smiling when I walked into his office, or as close to smiling as that man could get.

"Kiyomi," he greeted. "I have something for you."

I blinked, because that wasn't what I had been expecting. "Okay," I said, purely because I had nothing else to say.

He continued to smile as he handed me a book that was clearly hand bound. On the front was a word I didn't recognise, and perhaps Tajima saw my frown for he gave me another smile.

"It was your mothers," he explained. "She wasn't, of course, a kunoichi, however before she married me she was something of a spy. She was a master of disguise, particularly utilising genjutsu. In that book is all her knowledge of it."

I opened the first page, where it detailed something called _Henge_ , though it looked more elaborate than the basic ninjutsu I remembered from the show.

"Use it well," Tajima said.

This wasn't what I had been expecting. And more importantly, I had never received a gift from Tajima before. A gift that was rather...confusing, as well. It was almost as if he were encouraging me to continue to think of the path I wanted to take. The path of being a shinobi.

But at the same time, he was only meeting me half way.

"Thank you," I said genuinely, closing the book and hugging it to my chest.

Despite me being given a book that was the closest to the shinobi life I had ever gotten, my routine didn't change. I completed the straight stitch to appease Mei and began to teach Izuna to read and write. Of course, it would have been far better for Saori to teach him, but I had a feeling it was an exercise by Tajima to make us closer once again. And at night, I practised the leaf technique and read the book Tajima had given me.

Jin's ninth birthday passed, but neither Tajima nor Takeshi were there, and Jin was so injured that he had to remain in his bed for the entirety of the day. Madara, Izuna and I gathered around it, happily presenting him with gifts. Izuna gave him a shoddy hand made card that I had guided him through, Madara a new set of shuriken, and I gave him a small feast of food that I had prepared with Mei that he barely touched.

"Thank you," Jin said, but his voice was so weak that we all stood there, feeling like we hadn't done a single thing.

Afterwards I found Madara outside in the courtyard, throwing kunai after kunai into a target.

"What's wrong?" I asked and he glowered at me.

"What do you _think_ is wrong?" he snapped, throwing another kunai that embedded itself in the target all the way up to the hilt. "What's wrong is I never see Takeshi or Jin and all they do is fight in this _stupid_ war!"

I reached out to touch his shoulder gently but he shrugged me off. "Don't bother," he said, his voice cold.

"Madara—"

" _Don't_ bother, Kiyomi. You don't understand."

"I do, I—"

" _No_ ," he interrupted once again. "You don't. And as much as you want this whole shinobi life, and I know you do, I see the glint in your eye whenever you watch us train! You don't want it. It's horrible. And I haven't even seen the worse! But I can see it, in Jin and Takeshi's eyes, and it's disgusting, it's _horrible_."

There were tears in his eyes that he hurriedly brushed away, turning his back as if he were ashamed of crying in front of me. How could this child who expressed so much interest in peace turn into the man he was going to become?

"I don't want to fight," Madara said, his voice so soft as if he were embarrassed.

I touched his shoulder, this time firmer. "Madara," I said, forcing him to face me. "It's okay to feel that way. But I think—I think you can do something _good_ by learning how to fight. You can become strong enough to protect others. To protect Jin and Take-kun and Izuna."

He frowned. "And you?"

"Don't worry 'bout me."

He nodded, his frown lessening as my words seemed to sink in. "Yeah," he murmured. "I—yeah."

I gave him a small smile and it took a moment but eventually, Madara returned it. Or as best as that moody idiot could.

* * *

It felt as if my relationship with Madara had taken a step in the right direction. Our relationship had never been _bad_ by all means, however the majority of it had been when I couldn't speak or walk, and then Madara had been whisked up for training with Tajima.

However, I quickly realised that the combination of two very stubborn people and the usual sibling antics created some fierce arguments.

Even though I was technically supposed to be older and therefore, more mature, it was as if being in the body of a child enabled me to act like a child, and no one would care or notice. Or maybe it was some sort of psychological thing where I was attempting to forget about my old life. Either way, I became as bratty as Madara.

One day, it was because I had accidentally said something to make Izuna cry. As Izuna idolised Madara, he had made it a point to be Izuna's _guardian angel_ or some utter bullshit like that.

"It was an accident!" I screamed.

"How do you just make someone _cry_ like that?"

The next day, I cracked it at him for making a sexist remark about women.

"Women are all emotional! And don't bother denying it, you're the most over-dramatic and overemotional person I have _ever_ met!" Madara informed me with a self righteous expression on his face.

"Says the biggest drama queen in the entire world!"

Naturally, he didn't take well to being called a _queen_.

And on and on it went. Neither of us ever outrightly apologised, however I would usually make him food to apologise, whereas Madara would take me outside to the courtyard and I would watch him train in silence.

As I began to interact more with Madara, both positively and negatively, I started to spend actual time considering what I could remember from the original _Naruto_ timeline. Which was, in a sense, nothing. It was odd, because though I was essentially the same person just in a different body, recalling memories from my old life that weren't... _vivid_ was difficult.

And it wasn't like I had been so in love with the show that every single moment watching it had been vivid. But I could recall vague things, such as Izuna dying and Madara going all dark and moody. And then another boy from another clan and their friendship. I didn't really care about that. My focus was purely on Madara, as well as my other brothers.

Madara was the main villain of the show, but I knew that somehow he had been manipulated to do what he did by someone. Or something like that. It had all gotten a tad complicated.

The more I tried to remember things about the Madara in the show, though, the more I couldn't help but look at him with apprehension. As much as I tried to tell myself that I was here, so it _had_ to be different, it didn't work. And I didn't realise how obvious I was being with my uncertainty towards him until our first _proper_ fight happened, beginning with me trying to explain where Hana was to Izuna.

"She's gone," I tried to explain, wishing desperately that Saori were here to explain the concept of death to him. "She's—she was in a great deal of pain and now she's gone."

He frowned. "Why?" he asked.

I didn't want to explain to a small child that his mother had died giving birth to him. I felt myself flounder around the answer but before I could make something up, the door into Izuna's room slid open with a loud _bang_ and Madara stormed in.

" _You don't even care_ _!_ " he screamed, the sudden noise causing me to grab on to Izuna's hand.

"What?" I said, blinking.

"You talk about her as if she isn't even your own mother! As if you don't care about her. As if she never even mattered to you!"

Madara's shouting caused Izuna to begin crying next to me out of his confusion.

"That's not true!"

"You didn't even _cry_ when she died! You didn't do anything! You _still_ haven't cried and it's been nearly two years!"

I tried to empathise with Madara but in that moment, I couldn't. "I wasn't even two when she died!" I snapped.

"Well you never _acted_ like a two year old in the first place!" he screamed. "All you do is pretend to be mature when the reality is you're a little brat! Who, by the looks of it, can't love _anyone_!"

Izuna began to cry louder, his howls beginning to grate on my ears. Usually, whenever Madara heard Izuna even _sniffle_ , he would crack it. But he was ignoring him, his gaze completely on me, the hatred in his eyes hitting me like a bullet.

"I don't understand where this is coming from," I said angrily.

"And your way of grieving is to _not grieve?_ Or maybe you can't! I don't think you are capable of loving _anyone_. You were rude to Izuna when he was born, you act indifferent towards everyone and you look at me like I'm some sort of _monster_!"

"What is going on here?" Saori stood by the door, looking horrified. "Madara-kun, explain!"

Madara shook his head, giving me one last vicious glare. "Kiyomi's a cold hearted monster," he said before storming out of the room, slamming the door dramatically.

"Madara-kun, _come back here_!" Saori shouted after him. I could hear his footsteps thudding down the hallway.

She gave me an imploring look before swooping down to Izuna and picking him up, hushing him gently. I stood there, not moving, trying to comprehend Madara's words.

 _A cold hearted monster._ That was meant to be him, not me. I was — I didn't know what I was, where I fit into the horrible equation that was the Uchiha clan. I wasn't like them. I _couldn't_ be like them. Genetics made up a certain part of your personality and I had none of the genetics of Tajima or Hana. There was the whole nature vs nurture psychological concept, but I wasn't like the rest of the Uchiha clan. I hadn't changed, or at least I thought I hadn't.

And how could I grieve for someone I didn't know? And my rudeness to Izuna wasn't a direct attack to him, but Tajima. _And_ I didn't treat Madara like a monster. Sure, thinking about him in the show made me worry about his future, but that didn't mean I treated him like a monster.

None of my justifications for my behaviour worked.

"Kiyomi-chan, what happened?" Saori asked, trying to keep her voice gentle, though I could hear the impatience seeping in.

"Nothing," I said, and walked out of Izuna's room before I threw something at the wall.

Madara was the angry brat, not me. I told myself that as I paced my room, trying to calm myself down. But for all the pacing I did, I still wanted to storm into his room and give him a piece of my mind, even though I was technically supposed to be the mature one.

Takeshi, Jin and Tajima were all absent, dealing with the ever present war, so despite Saori and Mei's constant attempts to get us to apologise, it didn't work. And I wasn't going to cook something for him this time. It was different.

Our relationship sunk into nothingness for a few days, only to be rekindled by the threat of something greater.

Tajima and Takeshi returned a few days after our fight, their return resulting in an unusual amount of loud shouting that I heard from Izuna's room, where I was teaching him how to read while Saori watched on. Both Izuna and I trailed out of his room, peering into the hallway where Tajima was struggling to hold Takeshi's weight.

"Take-kun!" Izuna shouted, hurrying towards them with all the speed he could muster.

"Saori-san, put Izuna and Kiyomi to bed," Tajima barked.

Saori stood behind us, her mouth agape as she stared at the sight before her.

" _Now_!"

"O-of course, Tajima-sama!" She grabbed Izuna's hand before he could get any closer, wrapping her other arm around my shoulder and beckoning us away from them.

I didn't think I would ever forget the sight of Takeshi, his eyes only slightly open as he leaned heavily on Tajima, blood smeared on every part of exposed skin, blood gurgling from his mouth, his leg twisted at an odd angle. That was my brother. Someone had done that.

My entire body went numb as I distantly watched Saori put Izuna to bed, who struggled the entire way, crying and looking at me for consolation that I didn't have it in me to give. Saori led me out of Izuna's room and into mine, biting her lip as she helped me into my sleeping kimono and put me to bed.

The door shut behind her, leaving me in darkness. But I couldn't stay there. Someone had nearly killed my brother. He could be _dying_ and I was just lying here, wallowing in my dark room.

I stormed out of my room minutes after Saori left, hurrying down towards where I knew the healing room to be, only to smash into someone. Madara stood there, looking just as disheveled as I felt.

"Kiyomi?" he said, blinking before grabbing my arm tightly. "Takeshi—"

"I know," I interrupted. "Let's go."

We both sprinted down to the healing room and Madara shoved aside the guards standing by the door with surprising strength for a five year old before we both stormed into the room.

Tajima was kneeling beside Takeshi, his head in his hands while Takeshi lay there, unconscious. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, his face turning cold when he saw us.

"What is this?" he said, his voice eerily calm. "I thought you were told to _stay in bed_."

"That's our brother!" Madara snapped. "I'm not staying anywhere but here."

Tajima took a deep breath. "There's no point you being here. It won't do anything."

"I don't _care_ what it will do," Madara retorted. "But we're staying here anyway." He looked at me and I nodded my head.

For a moment Tajima didn't say anything, and Madara took that as a sign to go over towards the bed, my hand held tightly in his. The closer I got to Takeshi, the more I wanted to look away. The blood had been cleaned up, revealing the litter of bruises that were visible everywhere.

No one said a thing, all of us standing there staring at Takeshi. I wondered if Tajima felt guilty, if he felt like it was his fault that this had happened. I wondered if Madara felt the same anger I felt, felt it suffocating him, felt the need for some form of _revenge_ , so that the people who had done this to Takeshi never saw the light of day again.

"You're hurting me," Madara whispered in my ear.

I startled, realising I was clenching his hand too tightly, and I quickly let go.

Tajima left us alone in the room, leaving without a word. Both Madara and I stayed beside his bed long enough that two servants brought us futons and set them out beside Takeshi. At some point, I drifted off, waking up only when I heard the door opening, revealing Jin holding Izuna in his arms.

And then it was all four of us, surrounding Takeshi's bed as if we were a wall protecting him. Izuna curled up on Madara's futon and Jin on mine, and I felt Jin's sobs against my back while I pretended to be asleep.

In the morning, when Takeshi began to stir, we were all still there, bleary eyed and disheveled, a united front as we watched him open his eyes. He blinked when he saw four faces peering at him before a small smile appeared on his face, followed by a wince.

"Take-kun," Izuna whimpered, burying his face in Takeshi's arm.

Takeshi ruffled his hair, though it looked to be a slow and painful movement. "Izuna," he said with a smile. "This is—what are you all—" He winced again. "What are you all doing here?"

"What do you think, idiot?" Jin said, smiling, though everyone could see his red eyes and the tear tracks on his face. "I'm going to get a medic-nin, okay?"

While we waited for the medic-non to arrive, Takeshi blinked wearily at his surroundings, as if confused by where he was.

"Wh—what happened?" he asked, looking at Madara for clarification.

"You came in looking half dead with Father," Madara said, his voice unreadable except for the slight tremble in his words.

Takeshi closed his eyes, letting out a breath before attempting to give us another small smile, minus the wince afterwards. "You three—thank you. You didn't have to be here."

"Of course we did," Madara snapped, though his lips were turned upwards. "You're our brother."

There was nothing else to be said while we waited for the medic-nin to arrive. Izuna held onto Takeshi's forearm, whereas I held one hand and Madara held the other. We were ushered out quickly by the medic-nin and Tajima, who arrived looking breathless, rare emotion spilling from every pore of his being.

Yet we still sat outside his room, all of us lined up against the wall until the medic-nin opened the door.

"He'll be perfectly fine within a few weeks," the medic-nin announced.

My shoulders dropped, the stress leaving them as relief washed through me. I heard Jin let out a long breath and a flicker of a smile appear on Madara's face.

"He'll be okay," Jin repeated. "He'll be okay."

The relief was only further emphasised when Tajima reported the same thing and the following day, he was moved out of the healing room back into his own room. Just like the night he had arrived back half dead, we all crowded into his bedroom, servants appearing with four extra futons as we slept beside Takeshi once more.

I didn't want to leave his side. To see my older brother, _the_ eldest brother, look so weak and beaten down, so unlike his usual calm and steady self threw me out of loop. It was a harsh reminder, as well, and a horrifying first hand witness of how disgusting and vile the war out there was.

It took only a day before the relief faded. Tajima ordered us to return back to our old rooms and suddenly, despite never happening before, there was a curfew on our bed time.

" _What_?" Madara said, staring angrily up at our father. "But that's—"

"I don't care what you think it is," Tajima interrupted. "That is what it is. It's for your own safety."

When Madara opened his mouth to complain again, Jin nudged him, shooting him a warning look.

"There will be double the guards around the compound, as well," Tajima continued. "And _please_. Do not leave your room after dark. It is for your own safety. And if, for whatever reason, you do need to, there will be a guard constantly stationed outside your room. Ask them to escort you wherever you need to go. And if there isn't a guard, then do _not_ leave your room. Understood?"

We all stared blankly at him.

"Do you understand?" Tajima repeated, his voice harsh.

We all murmured variations of _yes_. Tajima gave us one last look before hurrying off, an urgency to his pace that I had never seen before.

"What's going on, Jin?" Madara asked, turning to our older brother. "Why is Father so...so—"

"Pedantic," I filled in for him, a word Takeshi had taught me in Japanese yesterday.

Jin smiled, but it was unconvincing. "Everything's getting a little intense out there at the moment. But don't worry, it's nothing to worry about!"

Izuna pouted. "I wanna stay with Take-kun!"

"You can't, Izuna-kun," Jin said, picking him up. "Just for a little bit. And then I'm sure Father will let us all be together in Takeshi's room again."

Another change occurred that made me even more anxious. Izuna was moved into my room, his futon situated right beside mine. This momentarily distracted him from being upset about not being able to stay in Takeshi's room at night, as he was too elated at the idea of a _sleepover_ between us.

It made me even more paranoid, and even Mei's calming presence as she tucked us in every night before we fell asleep wasn't enough to calm me down.

"Don't you two worry about a thing," she said, giving Izuna a kiss on the cheek. "Everything will be back to normal soon."

 _Normal_ was a relative word for this compound, but at that moment, I did miss the so-called normal life that I had been living, that had been shattered the moment Tajima walked in with Takeshi half dead.

A week passed, where every single day was spent by Takeshi's side, watching him slowly return to life. He still wasn't the ever reassuring and steady older brother he had been before the injury, but there was life to his eyes, the bruises around his body beginning to yellow and fade.

The week was so intense that Madara and I's small feud was long forgotten, both of us not bothering to mention it as we focused purely on Takeshi, only talking when necessary. Izuna, despite not knowing exactly what was going on, seemed to feel the tension in the air. He slept pressed against my back every night, as if he needed constant assurance that I was there.

That entire week, I barely slept. It wasn't only because Izuna constantly woke me up during the night due to his habit of kicking and moving in his sleep. It was walking past Tajima's office and seeing him pace back and forth, the usual scrolls on his desk untouched. It was seeing all the guards regularly walking up and down the hallway, their hands constantly on the swords strapped to their waists.

Everything felt like it was building up and up, ready to reach a terrifying climax.

Even after the week passed, the guards didn't lessen. Our curfew was still intact. izuna remained in my room, and once again proceeded to wake me up with his movement, dragging me out of a dreamless sleep.

He was fidgeting, his elbow bumping into my stomach as he seemed to struggle with a nightmare. I was about to wake him up when a _thud_ filled the air.

I froze while Izuna gasped, waking up violently.

"Kiyo-chan," he whispered, blinking sleepily at me.

"Shhhhh," I hissed, straining to hear something else.

There was nothing but silence, which wasn't comforting in the slightest. This past week every night had been a flurry of noise, as guards had paced the hallways, on a constant prowl for something I didn't understand.

Izuna looked at me, his expression beginning to morph into worry.

"Stay here," I whispered, getting up from my futon.

"Kiyo-chan, don't!" His voice was spoken at a whisper but was still too loud for my liking.

Without looking back I crept towards my door, slowly opening it before peering out. Nothing but darkness and silence greeted me, the suffocating kind that left my heart pounding in my throat. There was no guard on the other side like there usually was. There wasn't the usual light left on.

Tajima's words echoed through my head but I ignored them, stepping out into the hallway and shutting the door, wincing at the small _thud_ it made as it closed.

Still there was silence.

I took a deep breath and began walking down the hallway on my tip toes to where I knew Tajima's room to be. Not a single guard was in sight. Adrenaline began to course through my veins, my knees going weak as I stumbled along the dark corridor, my hands feeling out the wall.

A loud scream echoed through the hallways and I jolted, feeling as if I had just been struck by a lightning bolt.

 _Takeshi_.

My feet began to move before my brain could catch up to make a logical decision. I raced through the hallways, slamming into wall after wall as I struggled through the dark until I stopped before Takeshi's room. Two men wearing masks stood by it, decorated in armour with swords hanging by their side. They looked at me and despite the mask, I saw the crinkle in their eyes as they smirked down at me.

"What do we have here?" he drawled. "A tiny little girl running to save her brother?"

My hands were trembling beside me but other than that, I couldn't move. The screams from Takeshi's room had stilled and I didn't want to think — _couldn't_ think what that meant.

The taller of the men grabbed me by the throat, the sudden movement throwing me against the wall as I struggled violently against it. There was no air going to my lungs and I saw another man emerge from the room as the grip around my throat only tightened and tightened and tightened—

Just as quickly as his hands wrapped around my throat, I was dropped on the ground. I curled into myself, gasping for air because everything hurt, the very air gushing through my lungs barely soothing any amount of pain and panic I felt.

"You _bastard_!"

I could barely recognise Jin's voice or see his figure as I attempted to crawl away from the three men, my throat burning.

 _Do something_. But what? _Anything._ There was nothing I could do.

Rage filled every ounce of my being and I forced myself upright, ready to do _something_ , anything, because I could. I was _supposed_ to be the eldest. Someone grabbed from behind, dragging me back and I screamed before recognising Madara's voice hiss in my ear.

"Stop _struggling_ ," he snapped, continuing to drag me away even as I heard the clash and clang of swords as Jin took on three shinobi at once.

" _Let me go_ , that's Takeshi, they've got him, we need to _help_ Jin—"

Madara dropped me on the ground as one of the shinobi moved away from Jin and lunged for us.

I watched my five year old brother dodge an attack meant to kill and screamed as loudly as I could, praying that somewhere, wherever he was, Tajima would hear. He would come. He would save Takeshi, save Jin, save Madara, save _myself_.

My pathetic leaf technique couldn't do anything. The book I had been given on disguises and genjutsus couldn't do anything. All I could do was watch, hands shaking, as Madara dodged attacks and attempted to parry with nothing but a kunai, while Jin took on two men with a violence I didn't know he had in him. All I could do was scream until I longer could breathe.

Tajima appeared without a hint of sound and within seconds, the two men fighting Jin were on the ground. The one fighting Madara stopped and turned around, sneering.

"Uchiha Tajima," he said, but he didn't get any further than that.

I watched my father shove a sword through the man's throat in a blink of an eye. One moment, he was beside Jin. The next, a dead body fell beside Madara and I.

"Takeshi," Jin gasped and ran into his room.

Madara followed suit but I stayed on the ground. The screams had long since stopped coming from Takeshi's room. He was gone.

Tajima knelt down beside me, and I dimly registered that the compound was no longer silent. There were screams and shouts coming from all directions, though no one seemed to be straying down this hallway.

"Kiyomi," he began but I pushed him aside and charged into Takeshi's room.

Both Madara and Jin were kneeling beside the futon. I crept up behind them, staring blankly at the massacre that had just occurred. Takeshi's mouth was open as if he had been mid-scream when he had died. Blood dripped down his throat, his entire sleeping shirt a vivid red. But neither of these things were the worst.

Where his eyes once were, there was nothing but two gaping holes.

I crumbled to the ground, bile rising in my throat before I vomited in the corner of his room. Distantly, I could hear Jin crying, Tajima speaking and Madara shouting. Nothing registered, though. As I lay in the corner, hunched over, vomit covering the front of my shirt, hands shaking — I couldn't think.

Takeshi was dead.

* * *

 **A/N:** not sure if I've ever been on time for a chapter before but here I am.

I always feel weird publishing more intense chapters but once again, here I am. But more importantly, thank you _endlessly_ for everyone who reviewed, faved and followed. It means so much to me and I really hope you're all enjoying the story! As always, feel free to tell me what you think! Next chapter should be out next Sunday as well. I'm gonna try to stick to that schedule as much as possible because I've pre-written a lot of this.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

We were moved immediately to a new compound. A shinobi guard scooped me up, and I stared blankly at the carnage that had occurred in the hallways of what I had considered my home.

Takeshi wasn't the only casualty. Bodies were littered across nearly every corridor in the compound, some Uchiha, and some from the mysterious attackers. Blood splatters coated the walls.

Outside the compound, everything looked normal. The sun was beginning to rise, providing a mild warmth for the cool winter air. Everyone I had ever seen in the compound was gathered outside, huddled together, some sobbing and others staring blank faced at the compound.

Within an hour, we were on the move. I saw Izuna being carried by a shinobi guard as well, the confusion on his face immense as he cried for Tajima. Madara walked beside me, his eyes never leaving the ground, his feet trudging along. Jin and Tajima were no where to be seen.

I buried my head into the shinobi guard's shoulder and refused to look around at the others faces. To even think of Takeshi – his eyes being torn out — _everything_ —

My basic knowledge of psychology told me that trying to block everything out was a terrible idea. But it was the only thing I could do. Izuna didn't know what was going on. Madara was too distraught to do anything. And as much as my chest ached whenever I thought of Takeshi, I was technically the oldest.

The journey wasn't far at all. Within hours, we arrived at the new compound, which was vastly smaller than the other one. It looked more old fashioned and seemed almost bare, with no paintings or flowers or any decoration lining the hallways. Izuna and I were ushered into a room by the guards, where two futons lay out, side by side.

Mei arrived, scooping Izuna up into her arms and holding him tight to her.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear. "I'm so, so sorry."

I watched her vacantly, my brain detached from my self as she tucked him into the futon, kissing him gently on the forehead before turning to me. Her hand touched my cheek, and I wondered what she saw in my eyes, because I didn't quite know how I felt. How I _should_ feel. What I should do.

"Kiyomi-chan," she said, her voice gentle. "It's okay to cry."

When I turned my face away from her, her hand slipping away, I saw her face crumble out of the corner of my eye. She tucked me in, just like Izuna, and kissed me on the forehead, just like Izuna.

She left, leaving me alone with my thoughts and with Izuna's soft snores.

I didn't know if anyone had told him. He looked so innocent and blissfully unaware in his sleep, his pudgy cheeks stained red, his mouth slightly ajar with drool hanging out. Perhaps he sensed me staring at him, for his eyes fluttered open.

"Kiyo-chan," he mumbled, staring sleepily at me.

Maybe someone had explained it to him, but just like the concept of Hana being gone forever, he couldn't comprehend it. _I_ couldn't comprehend it.

How could someone hurt someone in that way, treat someone so violently? And then _smile_ after.

"You okay, Kiyo-chan?" Izuna's soft voice interrupted my thoughts.

"I'm—I'm okay," I said, forcing back the tears and reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Go back to sleep, now."

He stared at me, confusion etched into every crevice of his small face before once again, closing his eyes. It took him only minutes to fall asleep, and only seconds later were his snores filling the air around me.

And once more, I found myself jealous of Izuna, for genuinely being nearly two years old and unable to comprehend a thing.

* * *

I hated him for it, but also admired him. Uchiha Tajima moved forward with such grace and calmness that you would have never thought his eldest son and heir had died. And I knew that out of all of us, it had undoubtedly been Takeshi who would have had the most Tajima interaction.

In a twisted way, it helped that everyone seemed eager to move on quickly. The following day we were woken up by Mei, who took us into a room which was as sparse as every other room, only containing a large table and chairs. Tajima sat at the head of the table, understandably, but around him were people we had never seen or met before.

"Kiyomi, Izuna," Tajima greeted, as if our brother hadn't died two nights before and we were simply waking up to a nice family breakfast. "There are some people I would like to introduce you to."

Madara and Jin were already seated, both looking sullen.

"This is Kosuke-san." Tajima gestured to the man on his right who looked like he had just eaten a whole lemon in a second, his entire face pursed together, his brow furrowed. He was _tall_ , even sitting down, and his entire presence had a commanding aura to it. Not like Tajima's quiet one, though. "Kosuke-san runs this compound and has trained some of our best shinobi. Which includes his son, Yoshino-kun."

Yoshino, too, looked like he had just eaten a lemon, and he too was tall. He looked around twelve, and the fact that my father had just called a twelve year old _boy_ one of the Uchiha clan's best shinobi made my hands clench. Beside Yoshino was a woman who I gathered was his mother, for she wore the same expression as her husband and son, though she wore it with a grace and beauty I envied.

"And this is Yori-san, Kosuke-san's wife." Tajima gestured to the sullen woman. "And finally, Shin-san and his wife, Satsuki-san. Shin-san is an esteemed member of the council."

Shin and Satsuki were the complete opposite of Kosuke and Yori. Shin was shorter yet larger, and there was an obvious sheen of sweat on his forehead as he gave us a nervous smile. His wife didn't even meet our eyes as she stared down at her plate of food as if she was wishing she didn't exist.

I shared her feeling.

"And of course, everyone, these are my two youngest, Kiyomi and Izuna."

Only Shin and Yoshino muttered a small greeting. I looked next to me and saw Izuna looking incredibly overwhelmed as he stared at all the new people.

We weren't given any time to think before we were ushered onto the table, Izuna next to Madara, and me next to Izuna on the edge of the table. There was no conversation. Tajima looked perfectly at ease, as if nothing was wrong. Yet Madara and Jin's faces said it all.

I couldn't stomach the food. Every time I went to put something in my mouth, all I could think of were the gaping holes left in Takeshi's head where his eyes had once been. Madara and Jin's plates of food were untouched as well, as if they were remembering the exact same thing as me.

The moment breakfast ended, Madara and Jin were both shooed off to train, whereas Saori and Mei swooped in to take care of Izuna and I respectively.

Never before had Mei's lessons felt so utterly stupid as they did now.

I watched her show me a particularly hard kanji that I hadn't even heard what it meant.

"Kiyomi-chan, are you even listening?"

 _Takeshi's dead_ , I wanted to scream at her, but I bit the inside of my mouth until the urge to shout faded.

"Yes, Mei-san," I droned.

She shook her head at me. "Well, then, what does this mean?" She barely waited a second before she spoke, her voice as shrill as ever. "It means ' _to look back_ '."

"Okay."

" _Okay_?"

I wondered vaguely if Izuna was receiving the same treatment from Saori. Probably not.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to _listen_ , Kiyomi!"

It seemed, as the days continued in this pattern, that the way of the Uchiha was to ignore all bothersome emotions, especially grief. Even childish Izuna seemed to be doing okay, though whether this was because he cried to Saori every day while Mei ruthlessly drilled complicated kanji into my brain or no one had told him properly, I didn't know.

Madara looked, in all ways, fine. He threw himself into training with renewed vigour, as if he were attempting to ignore everything that happened. Or perhaps, like me, he was livid that he hadn't been able to do anything.

We rarely spoke. Not because the fight that we had before Takeshi's death was still on our minds, but simply because we didn't have anything to say. I didn't, at least. Every now and then, we would sit outside in the only courtyard available in the compound, staring blankly at our feet.

I wanted to comfort him. But no one else was speaking about it. No one else was saying anything. There hadn't even been a funeral. I didn't know if this was some tactic Tajima was pulling so that we would move on faster.

Was it working? I suppose, in that messed up way of Tajima's, it was.

But at the same time, every movement I made ached. Every night my eyes burned and my throat throbbed with the effort to hold back my tears so Izuna wouldn't have to hear them. Every time I saw Tajima, I wished I was in my old body so I could slap him for being so callous, for ignoring _everything_ and doing absolutely _nothing_.

Madara and Jin threw themselves into their shinobi training, Izuna threw himself into whatever Saori had him doing, and meanwhile I threw myself into the highly productive life of sewing, with the help of Yori.

Yoshino's mother was every awful stereotype I had for prickly women whose husbands never paid them enough attention. She was vain, she brought up Kosuke in every sentence but not with his name — she would say _my_ husband, with an emphasis on the my. Her only talent, it seemed, was creating the most beautiful things with her bony and judgemental fingers.

I would stare in awe at the kimono Yori created seemingly just with her hands. If I knew the word for sewing machine, I would have asked her if she had one.

"See, Kiyomi-chan," Mei said one day, her eyes shining because she had seen my look of awe that I usually hid. "You could do that one day!"

Yori gave me a disdainful look. "She clearly doesn't have the passion for it, Mei-san."

"I am certain that one day she will."

"I overheard my husband and Tajima-sama discussing her future and mentioning infiltrating, and that she would be more suited to that and that she could follow in her mother's old footsteps," Yori said, placing the kimono down and staring at it critically before glancing at me in the same manner. "Though I dare say she doesn't have the patience nor critical thinking for that."

I had no idea what _infiltrating_ exactly entailed in this world, but based on the brief stuff I had read in Hana's book about changing appearance and altering perceptions to be seen as more... _alluring_ , I could guess that it was a rather odd combination of a spy and a whore.

"Do not talk about such stuff in front of her," Mei hissed, as if I couldn't hear every word she was saying.

"Personally, I believe it is better to hear things said to your face rather than behind your back. Either way, it is being said. At least this way Kiyomi- _chan_ is aware." Yori gave me a cold smile.

I returned it. "Don't worry about my future, Yori-san!"

"Oh I dare say someone needs to."

As much as she was rude and cold, Yori added an extra element to my sewing lesson. She gave me _information_ that I was surprised she had been told. Or perhaps she hadn't been told and had eavesdropped. That seemed more likely.

"My husband is falling over himself training new shinobi," Yori said one time, while her hands whipped away and began to somehow make a kimono fit for not even a queen.

I had no idea if this conversation was for Mei or my ears. I couldn't imagine Mei caring much about shinobi politics, however by her body language, it looked like she was listening intently. Then again, she was one of the most polite women I had ever met.

"This mercenary clan—Kenta, I believe, are causing trouble," she continued. "They're the ones who— _you know_."

My sewing stilled as I realised her _you know_ meant that this clan had killed Takeshi. For once, Mei didn't hush Yori.

"Is Tajima-sama doing anything?" Mei asked, giving my hands a pointed look. I quickly resumed sewing.

Yori sniffed. "Of course not," she said, her voice laced with a hatred that put me on edge. "You would think Takeshi-kun's death would make him more aware. But that man has a cold heart."

His name sent me reeling and I couldn't help but put down my sewing, muttering a quick _excuse me_ as I hurried out of the room, trying to regulate my breathing and deal with the information that had just been handed to me. I had no clue why two women who seemed like they wanted nothing to do with the war had talked about such things in front of me.

And Takeshi.

Having a name for his killers made them all the more real, and made my anger stronger. The Kenta clan.

All of Tajima's messed up repressing tactics faded out the window with one word spoken by an idiotic woman. The vision of his eyes, that scream I had heard that pierced the very air even from corridors away.

"Kiyomi-chan?" Mei's voice echoed down the hallway as she approached me. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry about that, you shouldn't have to hear things—"

"No," I interrupted her, staring at the ground. "It's—I wanted to know."

She looked at me carefully, as if unsure what to do with my confession. "Well I—I still don't think Yori-san should have spoken so bluntly."

My head was reeling with the knowledge of a simple name.

"How about we go back and finish your sewing, Kiyomi-chan? We wouldn't want Yori-san to worry."

As per usual, Tajima's spy network of gossiping women reported back to him and I was ushered into his brand new office the next morning. His office in this compound wasn't comparable to his old one, due to Kosuke's spartan ways. However Tajima looked no less imposing, even with servings of food replacing the usual scrolls on the desk.

It was the first time we had been alone since Takeshi's death just last week.

"I wanted to see how you were handling everything," Tajima said to me as he served himself breakfast.

"Handling everything?" I repeated. "You mean Takeshi's death?"

He didn't even flinch. He simply continued serving himself food, and when I didn't say anything, he raised an eyebrow.

"How are _you_ handling everything?" I retorted.

Tajima gave me a wry smile. "I do not think I need life advice from my four year old daughter."

I scowled at him. "I'm angry," I said finally, deciding to be honest.

"That you couldn't do anything to save him?"

The words sent a sharp sting of fury rippling down my spine. He spoke so casually, so callously, as if he was acting like I hadn't seen him slaughter those shinobi with no mercy whatsoever due to _his_ anger. As if he hadn't ran into Takeshi's room after I had and knelt there beside us.

It wasn't as if Tajima didn't care. He did, and I knew this. But it felt as if his lack of reaction was a manipulation, just like his callous words. And it was working.

"It was a...mishap," Tajima said eventually when I didn't say anything. "They somehow got through our protective genjutsus around the compound, not to mention they knew the times the guards swapped rotations. As the guards were swapping, many of them were killed."

He wasn't making excuses. He was stating everything as if it were a fact, as if, though there had been a mistake, he had moved past it.

"Mei-san told me what happened," Tajima continued, as if he wasn't noticing me clenching my chopsticks until they were about to snap. "You overheard the name of the clan that invaded the compound."

 _Invaded the compound_. Because Takeshi, even though he had his eyes torn out and his throat sliced open, he hadn't been the only one.

"Do you want revenge?" Tajima asked, his voice still quiet and calm. It was like we were discussing types of tea.

I didn't understand how a man could ask his nearly four year old daughter such a question.

"I'm gonna have breakfast with Izuna," I said, and with a strength I didn't know I possessed, didn't know I could do, I turned my back on my so-called father despite wanting to throttle him into the ground for putting thoughts into my head.

Thoughts of hunting down this Kenta clan, finding them, and slaughtering them. Ripping _their_ eyes out. Slitting _their_ throat.

Thoughts that seemed satisfying.

* * *

Time continued to ebb and weave in the way that it did when people threw themselves into things to try and forget about other things. I had done it multiple times in my old life, but the _things_ I had wanted to forget about had been utterly ridiculous in comparison to this. A cheating boyfriend. A bad night in a bar.

A dead brother with his eyes torn out.

My stitching improved to the point where I could sew shaky flowers into kimonos. It turned out that when I wanted to, I could spend hours sitting in my room, staring blankly at a piece of cloth as my fingers went through the rhythm of up and down, as I threaded the needle through the kimono.

Izuna's second birthday was a quiet affair, which was surprising considering it was a rare moment when we were all together. Jin returned from a mission a day early to be there, and Tajima made a rare appearance when we all had dinner separately from the others.

It was the first time we had been together as a family, without the presence of the others living here. Izuna was given his gifts, which were all wildly predictable, ranging from toy kunai and shuriken to a child's book that seemed to be about war tactics, given by Tajima himself.

My gift was the exception, and Izuna looked confused by the shakily hand bound book that Mei had assisted me with, listing all the stories in my neatest writing that I had told him. Most of them were taken from my old world and were made even more innocent than they already were, every single one containing a nice happy ending, even my unique version of _The Little Mermaid_.

"It's stories," I explained to him. "All the stories I've ever told you. So you can read them whenever you want."

He gave me a small smile. "Thanks, Kiyo-chan."

And it seemed being at the mere age of _two_ meant that there was more responsibility. Izuna was outside all the time, accompanied by a nameless shinobi who I always scowled at whenever I saw, trying to tell him that he was a shitty person for effectively starting to teach a two year old how to be a killer with just my eyes.

It wasn't just Izuna who received new training, either. Shortly after Izuna's birthday, in one of Madara and I's quiet and unspeaking courtyard moments, the silence was finally broken.

"He—he's training me," Madara said, staring at his feet. "Yoshino-sensei."

I said nothing, mostly because I hadn't had a single interaction with Yoshino. Every now and then, out of the corner of my eye, I would see Yoshino or Kosuke, though both of them seemed to always be constantly in a bad mood and in a rush.

"And he's good?" I asked.

"He's incredible. I've never seen someone move so fast."

 _Incredible._ I supposed I was being trained by someone incredible as well. Yori was a wizard with a needle. But it wasn't the same. Madara could chase his restlessness, his need for revenge away by throwing kunais at targets, by going through katas, all guided through by an _incredible_ person.

"I'm glad," I told him, forcing myself to smile. "I'm glad. And he's...nice?"

"Nicer than you would think." The edges of Madara's mouth lifted. "And I—I got the Sharingan. Father was happy."

I blinked, my knowledge of the Sharingan weak. Every now and then when Takeshi or Jin had trained, I had seen them have it, had heard Tajima discuss how Takeshi's was more _developed_ or something along those lines. And I knew, more importantly, how you got it, which in my mind was the most disgusting thing in the entire world.

"That's—that's good," I forced out.

"I'm still learning to use it but I will." His voice was filled with such certainty that I ached for his kind of confidence at the direction at which he was going in.

We sat in silence for a moment. I wanted to voice my jealousy, wanted to voice my frustration. But it didn't feel right to do it to Madara. He wasn't that type of person.

The fact that he had chosen to drag me away from the carnage that had happened at our old home stung mildly. His first thought had been to protect me, not go after the shinobi. Logically, I knew that it made sense. But I shouldn't have to be protected. I was older than him, though he didn't know it.

He had thought me weak. And I was. And it was only going to get worse.

Whenever I had a break from Mei's training, I would go outside to the courtyard and watch whoever was being trained there. Most of the time, it was Madara and Yoshino. There seemed to never be a moment where those two weren't in the courtyard, relentlessly going over exercise after exercise, routine after routine. I watched fire erupt from Madara's mouth with awe, my first witness of ninjutsu.

Every now and then, however, especially in the early mornings before breakfast, it would be Kosuke running through drills with various shinobi.

" _Not_ correct," Kosuke snapped, his tone impatient as he guided three teenagers through an exercise. "You're going to get killed in two seconds flat. Get up. _Now_!"

The teenager in question struggled to lift himself up from the dirt, falling back onto his knees when he failed. Kosuke growled, his foot slamming into the back of the person. I forced myself to look away from the sight, counting my breath.

"You can't even get up, can you? You're a useless fucking excuse for a shinobi, that's for sure. You're shaming this clan."

It was funny how though his tone was always snappish and impatient, he never raised his voice. In fact, it was even scarier that he didn't raise his voice, especially when he insulted you in barely a whisper. I wondered if Yoshino had received this treatment when training, or if he had been different.

"We're done for today, seeing as none of you can barely achieve anything," Kosuke dismissed.

The three teenagers sluggishly got up from the courtyard, giving me odd glances out of the corner of their eyes as they went inside. Kosuke's eyes flickered to mine, a snarl appearing on his face.

"Get back inside," he snapped. "Don't you have some sewing to be doing?"

"Nope," I said, giving him a smile.

He glowered down at me. "Show some respect, you impudent brat. You think just because you're Tajima's daughter you don't have to respect your elders? It's Kosuke- _san_."

"It's also Tajima- _sama_."

"You're a fucking piece of work. Get back inside before I force you myself."

I wondered if part of Kosuke knew that I was more mature than I looked. It wasn't just me Kosuke hated, but Madara as well, yet he never swore as viciously around my brother than he did me. Or perhaps I just irritated him to the point where all basic manners left him.

"Of course, Kosuke-sama!" I chirped and before he could swipe at me, I hurried inside.

Naturally, I payed for my disrespect.

"You need to respect Kosuke-san," Tajima said, his tone bored as he didn't glance up from his scrolls. "I am sick of repeating myself, Kiyomi."

"He doesn't respect you."

"And you do? Let me worry about that. You just concern yourself with respecting him and don't worry about anything else."

"So I should be worried about it?"

Tajima sighed, looking up from the scroll. "We are his guests, Kiyomi. I may be clan head, but this is his compound. You may not like him or his methods, but some of the shinobi he has trained have been the greatest this clan has ever seen."

As much as I hated to admit it, it was true. Kosuke's compound was vastly different to the one I had spent my first five years in. For one, our compound had electricity and running water through pipes, something I still didn't quite understand as I knew that this world wasn't exactly technologically _advanced_. Kosuke's compound, however, didn't. There were candles, and baths had to be prepared and drawn by the few servants that lived here.

I supposed it made sense, considering Tajima was clan head and we were his children. There weren't many benefits of being his daughter, but the old compound had certainly been one of them.

Those benefits had long gone, however. Kosuke seemed to be adamant about there being no amount of fun in this compound. No one ever lingered in corridors. I hadn't heard anyone laugh since we arrived.

Tajima's words made me watch Kosuke with a keen eye. I channelled my focus into that as well, not just my sewing, reading Hana's book and practising the leaf technique. He seemed to hate it, whenever his eyes met mine in the corridor or the training grounds, and just like every other time before, he would curse at me.

But that was irrelevant. Him calling me a _fucking piece of work_ didn't matter. What mattered was his loyalty.

Part of me wondered if Tajima had wanted me to do this, had placed the idea in my head with careful manipulation. Though why he thought his tiny daughter would be a good spy, I didn't know. Or maybe it was a test and a distraction, just like how he had given me Hana's book.

Kosuke never revealed anything, though. Whenever I would trudge past his office 'accidentally', it would be empty. He was nearly always outside, training someone. If he wasn't, I didn't know where he was.

My attention turned to Yoshino. Children's behaviour usually stemmed from their parents. If I watched Yoshino enough, he could reveal something about Kosuke unwittingly.

Yet Yoshino's life was just as sad as his father's. If he wasn't training Madara, he was training himself. It seemed this whole compound was where you went to throw yourself into something with all your energy and forget about everything else. Yoshino had this down to a tee.

At sunset, Yoshino was nearly always the only person in the courtyard. He went through exercise after exercise as I sat on the edge of the steps leading into the courtyard. It was Yoshino who gave me my first proper glimpse of the legendary Sharingan in action, as I had only ever seen Takeshi and Jin with it activated, but they had never been _using_ it. Yoshino's Sharingan gleamed red constantly in the low light as he effortlessly trained for hours of end.

Despite only having just turned eleven, Yoshino was lithe and muscled, every movement he made timed perfectly. I couldn't help but watch in awe, for I had never seen someone so young be able to do such things. Takeshi didn't compare, nor Jin. It was Yoshino who first showed me the true skill that was needed to be a shinobi, as well.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye when he finished his last kata. The sky was completely dark, stars twinkling in the sky when he stopped.

"You should go inside," was all Yoshino said when he reached the steps I was sitting on.

It became a routine, all through spring whenever it wasn't raining. I would sit out on the steps, watching Yoshino do his sunset practise, feeling awed by every movement and every routine he went through. Madara was being trained by this person. Part of me was jealous of all the things that he would undoubtedly be learning, but the other half was proud and happy.

But there was nothing to be learnt from Yoshino's vigorous training regime. Neither Yoshino nor Kosuke gave anything away that made me doubt their loyalty or anything like that. Yori's initial words of hatred for Tajima were the only clue I had.

Near the end of spring, I took initiative by myself and knocked on Tajima's door. He opened it himself, staring down at me blankly before stepping back to allow me in.

When we were both seated on opposite sides of his desk, Tajima waited patiently for me to begin speaking, looking as if he had all the time in the world and _wasn't_ the leader of a clan.

"Kosuke's _weird_ ," was all I managed to say, unsure how to word my observations in a casual manner in case someone was listening.

"Kosuke- _san_ ," Tajima corrected mildly.

"Yeah, him. All he does is train and then...disappear. Same with Yoshino-kun. All he does is train."

Tajima gave me a smile. "That is what shinobi do, Kiyomi."

"I didn't realise _that_ much."

"It's a lot of work." His words were pointed.

"Yori-san's very interesting though," I continued, trying to push the conversation in my direction, not his. "She's very good at sewing. She says some interesting stuff, though. She's a bit _bitter_."

"Both Kosuke-san and Yori-san have seen a lot through the years," Tajima said delicately. "That's what happens when you're a shinobi."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You're being obvious," I said. "Why are you being obvious for once when I'm trying to _tell_ you something?"

Tajima stood up, crossing over onto my side of the desk until he was kneeling beside me. "Perhaps I've reconsidered," he said, and even though we had never talked about what he was considering, I knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Why?"

"Perhaps I don't think you can do it."

My stomach plummeted to the earth in an instance, the words instilling me with such a keen sense of _failure_ even though I hadn't failed anything.

"You—you gave me that _book_!" I snapped. "You can't just play games with me and then—"

"You're clouded by your emotions." Tajima rose, staring down at me with such a level of authority that I hadn't seen or felt before, because he had never used it. "You don't think. More importantly, you think you're smarter than you are. You think you're better than you are. You're arrogant."

I thought of hot-headed Madara. " _I'm_ arrogant? Ma—"

"We are not talking about your brother. We are talking about you."

"My—"

"I did not tell you about Kosuke in a bid to have you spy on him," Tajima continued, ignoring my attempts at talking. "I told you about him as an explicit _warning_."

My eyes automatically flittered to the door, half expecting Kosuke himself to emerge in all his wrath. Tajima's lips twitched upwards at my glance.

"I lost one son already, Kiyomi," Tajima said. "Perhaps I don't want to have the potential to lose anymore children."

"Because I'm a _girl_?" I shrieked, standing up. Though I barely came up to his waist, I glared up at him with all my fury. "I don't see you stopping Izuna from his weird training! And—and this won't _protect_ me. I could have died, when those shinobi invaded! I thought—I thought I was _going_ to! Madara had to save me. I don't want to be saved. I shouldn't _have_ to be saved."

"There will always be someone around to save you."

" _That's not how I want to live my life!_ "

My breathing was erratic and heavy, filling the silence in Tajima's office as he looked away from me. I could feel my hands shaking at my sides, the adrenaline racing through my body, my mind screaming _Takeshi Takeshi Takeshi_. The thought of that fear, those hands strangling me —

I already dreamt of it enough. That feeling of uselessness.

Tajima continued to stand there, unspeaking.

"There wasn't someone around to save Takeshi," I said, my voice cold. "And now he's dead."

He didn't bother trying to stop me as I walked out of his office.

* * *

For my fourth birthday, it was only Madara, Izuna and I, accompanied by Mei.

For my fourth birthday, I received a new kimono emblazoned with the Uchiha fan on the back from Mei, a book of herbs from Madara, a hug from Izuna and a small sword from Tajima.

Mei frowned when I opened it.

"I think there must have been a mistake," she said finally, as we all stared at the sword in my hands. "When he returns from his mission, Kiyomi-chan, we'll ask him about it and you can get a proper gift."

"It's not a mistake," Madara said, his tone brusque. "Father doesn't make mistakes."

"Yes, well, Madara-kun, sometimes people—"

"It wasn't a mistake," he repeated. "She can keep the sword."

For a five year old, his voice was commanding enough to make Mei falter and finally quieten. I shot him a grateful look, though all I got in return was a minuscule smile.

Jin returned the following day, bursting into Izuna and I's bedroom in a rare moment when we were allowed to play together. He beamed at me, despite still wearing his armour and having a bleeding wound on his left cheek.

"You're four, Kiyo-chan!" he shouted, pulling me into his arms before I could stop him. He smelt of smoke, blood and sweat and I wrinkled my nose as I pushed him away.

"You stink, Jin."

He pouted. "Love is all about not caring when you smell!"

"Love is about telling people when they smell," I countered, watching as Izuna threw himself into Jin's arms, as if oblivious to the pungent stench radiating from him.

"So cynical, so young," he sighed, patting Izuna on the head. "Don't you dare turn out like your sister, Izuna!"

Izuna giggled. "I'm nothing like Kiyo!"

"Damn right you're not!"

"Jin-kun, welcome home." We all looked up, startled, to see Saori, though Jin's reaction was the most shocking — while still holding Izuna in one arm, in seconds he had whipped out a kunai in his other hand. She eyed him warily until he put it away as if it had never happened.

"Saori-san," he greeted smoothly, placing Izuna next to me and standing up. "Where's Father?"

She gave him a quick head gesture and within moments he was following her out of the room while I looked after them, eyes narrowed.

"Kiyo-chan, keep playing?" Izuna asked, poking me in the knee rather viciously.

I turned back to him, half paying attention to the elaborate game we were playing that was an easier version of shogi, while half my thoughts remained on Jin's return and more importantly, the lack of Tajima and Saori's response to Jin's simple question.

That night, I hunted down Jin, finding him sitting in the courtyard, staring at the stars in the sky with a mild smile on his face. He looked well rested and actually smelt clean compared to earlier.

"What happened with Taji—Father?" I asked immediately as I sat down next to him.

He laughed, ruffling my hair. "Straight to the point as always, huh, Kiyo-chan?"

I scowled. "Well?"

"He's off on a long mission," Jin said. "That's all I can say."

Long mission. I didn't know what that meant or it entailed, but the sour look on Jin's face gave me a hint that it was clearly dangerous.

"I didn't think Father could go on long missions. As clan head."

Jin shrugged, lying onto the grass. "It's a different type of mission. Father's are usually less... _physical_ and more political."

"Political?"

I knew next to nothing about the politics of this world, or the system that it had. It was an odd point in time where it seemed like a feudal society, however the inclusion of electricity for those who were upper class was a confusing addition.

"The daimyo," Jin elaborated. "Honestly, Kiyo-chan, this stuff always used to bore me. You should ask someone who actually knows about it. Ta—" He took a deep breath. "Takeshi was the one who loved all the political stuff."

We both fell into a silence. Jin had always been the emotional one out of us five. Due to his leg being pressed against mine, I could feel the tremors that gradually began to ripple through his body, though he seemed to force them down, staring blankly at the night sky. I placed my hand on his knee.

"Jin," I whispered. "I'm—" I stopped, unsure what to say. For the first time since we moved compounds, I had a feeling that no one would stare at me if I showed a sliver of emotion, no one would report it back to Tajima who would call me into his office and force thoughts of revenge into my head.

"I know, Kiyo-chan. I know."

I stared up at the sky, because I knew that if I looked into Jin's eyes, I would start to cry.

"Father tried to—I don't know. He almost tried to—" I stopped once again, growing restless. "It was like he wanted me to personally want to avenge Takeshi."

Jin chuckled, though it wasn't a pleasant sound. "That's what Father does. He channels your sadness into anger." His words were spoken with hostility, the first time I had ever heard him openly divulge hatred towards Tajima.

"Do you think that works?"

He remained silent for a moment, and it was almost like I could physically _hear_ his pondering. "For some, maybe. But I don't think it's right. I don't think people are meant to work like that. People shouldn't be angry all the time and revenge...revenge does _nothing_."

"But don't you think that if that clan who killed Takeshi were killed, then no one would be hurt again? Not revenge, but something else."

"Reciprocity," Jin filled in for me. "Maybe. But there's always going to be another clan. And another. And another. It never ends, Kiyomi."

His use of my full name jolted me.

"Then why do you bother fighting?"

"Because I have to."

That answer stung. _Because I have to._ No one should have to. That wasn't how life worked. People should be allowed to do what they wanted, especially when it came to such a harsh choice. Tajima's words echoed through my head.

 _Maybe I don't think you can do it._

Jin was forced into one life and I was forced into another. And Takeshi was forced into his grave.

"No one should have to do anything," I mumbled.

He looked at me, as if catching the double meaning in my words, understanding that I was both saying that he shouldn't have to fight if he didn't want to, but I should be allowed to fight if I wanted to. His hand rested on my shoulder, a warm and comfortable presence.

"Kiyo-chan," Jin began, and I braced myself for the lecture. "Kiyo-chan, even if you _had_ been taught from the moment you were born to be a kunoichi, you still wouldn't have been able to save Takeshi. It wouldn't have mattered. You have to understand that."

Before Takeshi's death, I had wanted to become strong to be able to prevent something like his death from happening. And then it had happened. It had happened and I had never experienced anything like it.

It was impossible to describe experiencing someone dying for the first time, experiencing such fear that you truly gave up and thought that you were going to die. The uselessness. The complete and utter fear and shock that radiated through your body with such a frequency that you could barely lift a pinky finger.

It was impossible to describe seeing a loved one like that. Seeing a loved one lying in a bed, unmoving, never moving ever again, eyes gone, nothing but blank space and blood and terror and fear.

"I—I don't know what to do," I confessed, looking at my lap and not meeting Jin's eyes. "I—I did nothing."

"There was nothing you could have done," he said gently. "Kiyo-chan, it's—"

" _No_ ," I snapped. "No. I don't know what I could have done but surely, surely there's _something_."

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me against his side. "Unfortunately, Kiyo-chan, sometimes the world is so cruel and harsh it's unbearable. And it's even worse when you can't do anything about it at all. But that's life. You just have to move on but before that, you need to grieve. You can't just bottle your emotions up and expect everything to be fine. Why do you think Madara's so angry, and Father's so terse? And I don't want you to be like that, Kiyo-chan."

For the first time since Takeshi's death, I allowed the tears to fall. I buried my face in Jin's shoulder and cried, but not just for Takeshi. For all my brothers. And even for Tajima. For all the battles they would undoubtedly face, because this world was a cruel and unjust one, ridden with war and death. And at the moment, I could do nothing to stop it.

But I would. Because as I let free the sadness that I had been oppressing to look after Izuna, a new emotion replaced it, despite Jin's warning.

An intense anger and need for revenge.

* * *

 **A/N:** the chapters are steadily getting longer because I have no self control tbh but oh well! As per usual, thank you so so much to everyone who reviewed/followed/faved or is simply just quietly reading away! I appreciate it!

on another note because I reckon it's gonna come up and it has come up before, Kiyomi's trash. I like 'unlikeable' characters, I guess, especially bratty ones hahaha they're my favourites! But yeah I just thought I'd mention that, not to discourage people from commenting 'Kiyomi is an idiot' because feel free! I love to hear your thoughts on whether you think she's stupid or brilliant.

 **also I made a Tumblr** but I'm still figuring out how to best use it. so it's a bit empty atm but idk, if you have any questions about anything and want to ask them with pure anonymity then fire away! the link is abundanteve . Tumblr . com (idk if this works because formatting is weird but basically my username is abundanteve)

Thank you once again and I hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

During the winter when Madara turned six, Tajima _finally_ returned from his long mission. Mei had long since forgotten about the sword that now sat on my shelves, gathering dust from the months it spent lying there.

I hadn't, however.

The sword wasn't just a sword. I knew that in his own way, Tajima had said yes. To what exactly, I wasn't sure.

But we were forbidden from seeing him for the first few days. The doors to his office remained shut, a sight I had never seen before. I didn't know where his rooms were in this compound, either. Madara was agitated by not being able to see his father, often pacing back and forth outside his office.

"Why do you wanna see him so much?" I asked as I sat in the hallway, leaning against the wall and watching his pacing.

He scowled at me. "He's my father, Kiyomi. And yours, too."

"But he's _back_. You know he's back, you know he's alive. I don't see the reason to be so stressed out."

"Yes, he's alive. But he's clearly injured. Otherwise, he'd be here, wouldn't he? What other reason would he have for not being here?"

I thought what Madara was saying was utter bullshit. The concept of Tajima and injured was unfathomable.

However, Madara once again proved his prodigal ways when I walked past Tajima's office one morning to see the door open and him sitting there, sipping tea as if he hadn't just disappeared for nearly three months and _didn't_ have a bandage wrapped entirely around one half of his face and a sling on one arm.

"Kiyomi," he greeted amiably. "It's good to see you."

I stared at him in disbelief, wondering if this man's emotions were _that_ stunted. "What—what happened?"

"A slight complication, but no need to worry. Did you have an enjoyable birthday?"

"An enjoyable _birthday_?" I repeated, still awestruck. "I'm—you turn up like this, and you're asking if I had an _enjoyable birthday_?"

He took another lengthy sip of tea, his eyes not leaving mine. I had a feeling he was trying to gauge my reaction.

"Were you concerned?" he asked mildly.

 _No._ But I had feeling saying that to your supposed father wasn't exactly a good idea. Especially when he was injured. And I wasn't concerned. Or maybe I was, but not for him. I was concerned about the situation which injured him.

"Is it to do with that clan?" I asked, shutting the door to his office and walking in, falling into the usual seat on the other side of his desk. "The Kenta clan?"

He smiled. "No. They have yet to be dealt with."

I remembered Yori's cold and harsh words about how Tajima was dealing with the Kenta clan, but I forced them out of my head.

"But what happened, then?"

Tajima only continued to smile. "As I said, a slight complication. However it has been resolved. Did you have an enjoyable birthday?"

"Yes," I said finally.

"I'm glad."

We both stared at each other, Tajima still smiling as if there was nothing wrong.

"You gave me a sword," I began. "That was nice."

He raised an eyebrow. "Was it? I thought you would like it."

"Well, then, can you teach me how to use it?"

Without warning, Tajima began to laugh. I startled at the noise, for I didn't think I had ever heard it before. Sure, he had _smiled_ , but most of the time his smiles directed at me were passive aggressive. But this was genuine laughter I was witnessing.

"You're the first of my children who has ever so blatantly asked for me to personally train them. You're the first who has ever asked me full stop."

"You gave it to me," I retorted. "So don't you think that means you should teach me?"

Tajima's passive aggressive smile returned. "Believe it or not, I was going to. However circumstances have changed. I do not have the time, what with the current situation regarding the Kenta clan and—" He stopped suddenly, shaking his head. "I do not have time, I'm afraid."

I didn't really believe him. But I returned his smile with my own passive aggressive one, watching his eyebrows raise in amusement. It didn't matter if he couldn't teach me.

I had two older brothers for a reason.

Unfortunately, Jin was absent half the time, as he was usually on the front lines. I didn't want to think about sweet and idealistic Jin out there. Yet he had hit double digits. He was ten years old, and that was basically an adult for the Uchiha clan.

Madara, however, _was_ around.

"I want you to teach me how to fight," I said without hesitation, catching up to him one day in the hallway just a few days after his own birthday. He was now six, which was scary in its own way.

Madara scoffed. "Me? Kiyomi, I'm not—"

"You _are_ good. I mean, for a six year old."

"I'm not good enough for my age. At least, that's what Kosuke-san says."

I wanted to track down Kosuke and throttle him for putting that idea in Madara's head, for _daring_ to say such a horrible thing to him. This boy, if he had been born in my world, would be learning addition and subtraction with apples and pears, not sparring every day with a twelve year old who should be learning how to do algebra.

"You should ignore Kosuke-san," I said resolutely. "In fact, _never_ listen to him."

Madara raised an eyebrow. "And I should listen to you instead?"

"Yes, actually. I'm your sister. Haven't you heard the saying a woman is always right?"

"That's not a saying. You made that up."

"Well, it's a saying now. And an accurate one."

"It can't be that accurate. You've been wrong multiple times."

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. "Oh yeah? When have I been wrong, then?"

Madara gave me a perfectly wide smile, however unlike Izuna's cute ones, Madara's was purely petty. "There was that moment when you were two and you muddled up the kanji for four and six, there was another time when you couldn't tie an _obi_ properly, oh and then there was—"

"That's enough!"

"You asked for examples."

"Actually, what I asked for was if you could _train_ me," I said, immediately attempting to steer the conversation away from all my stupid mistakes.

He shook his head. "I can't, Kiyomi. I don't have the time."

"You have the time to remember and then list all the times your sister was wrong, but not to spend an hour or two with her _training_ her?"

"It's automatic to remember all the times you're wrong," he retorted. "And besides, Father might not want you being trained."

"Since when have I ever cared what Father thinks?"

"You should."

"Not when it comes to _this_." When he only continued to look at me, I sighed. " _Please_ , Madara."

He returned my sigh, though his sounded heavier and laced with a forced patience. "I can't, Kiyomi. Sorry. And I need to go. Yoshino-sensei is expecting me."

I ignored the fact that he barely sounded sorry at all and watched him leave, not bothering to look back.

Madara was out. And with Jin constantly absent, that left one person who I didn't even really know.

Yoshino was Madara's teacher. I had very little contact with him except for at meal times where all the _important_ people in the compound were forced together. Despite this, I was pretty sure that we had yet to have a proper conversation. But that could change.

Due to my small stint at following him around like a lunatic, I was well aware of his routine. It was easy to continue following him around just like I had months ago, trailing after him as he went out to train and then following him back in whenever he finished.

He never outwardly reacted, but I could see that my presence made him suspicious.

After letting him get used to my annoying presence, instead of separating in the lengthy hallway after following him inside, I continued trailing after him as he walked at a furious pace towards his room.

When he reached the door of his room, he glanced back at me, a small scowl on his face.

"What is it?" he asked, impatience lacing every word.

"I want you to teach me how to use this," I said, holding out the sword I had been carrying around all day while following him. " _Please_."

He pursed his lips. "I'm not your teacher," he said finally. "You already have a teacher."

"Just this one thing," I pleaded. "And besides, Mei-san teaches different things."

"I think you should ask Tajima-sama," was all Yoshino said as he began to walk away despite the fact that he had just been about to enter his room.

"I already did!" I hurried to catch up to his long footsteps. "He—he said no."

Yoshino stopped and stared down at me. "And you thought I would say yes? If the clan head says no to something, you think I would say yes?"

I didn't bother telling him that he was my last resort. Jin was away, I knew no one else at the compound, Tajima had said no and Madara was Madara.

" _Please_ ," I begged, trying to keep the childish whine out of my voice.

He glanced at the book in my hands once again. "No," he said once again. "And that's final."

Even though I desperately wanted to stomp my feet and sulk, I let him leave. I could convince him, somehow. And surely Jin would return sometime soon.

Jin _did_ return the following week, however his time spent at the compound recovering from being on the front lines was so short that I barely felt like I properly talked to him. Despite this, I ranted about Tajima giving me the sword and not training me, as well as Madara and Yoshino's refusal.

"I think everyone's pretty busy at the moment, Kiyo-chan," he said, ruffling my hair as we sat in his room, eating breakfast together. He wasn't majorly injured — there were only heavy bags underneath his eyes.

"I know, but—"

"I don't think you do." Jin's voice was sharp. "Whenever Madara or Yoshino-kun or Father are here, they're probably exhausted. Everything out there is chaotic, now. It's reaching a climax."

I felt like I was four — which I was, but still — and being lectured by my father, not my brother who I was technically older than.

"Okay," was all I said, because I didn't want to argue with Jin, not when he looked so exhausted and he had just spoken without his usual light hearted tone.

He gave me a small smile and messed up my hair once again before leaving, claiming he needed to speak to Tajima. His breakfast remained mostly untouched.

And once again, due to everyone being busy, I was ignored. Mei was my only company. Part of me thought Izuna had been physically _moved_ from the compound because I hadn't seen once. He had been given his own room awhile ago, and after that I only occasionally saw him wandering through the halls, forever accompanied by his trainer. When I asked Mei about it, she gave me a smile.

"Of course! I thought Tajima-sama told you. Izuna-kun has been moved to the northern compound. There are more people his age there and it's less dangerous," she explained, still smiling brightly as she tied my _obi_ for me.

If it was so dangerous, then why was I, a useless four year old girl, here?

And also Tajima _hadn't_ told me, which rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't know if he had simply forgot, but I would have thought that man would never forget a thing.

The lack of entertainment due to my brothers being gone equaled a lot of thinking. Which I didn't want. At all.

If I sat in my room, alone, and stared at the wall, all I could think of was Jin out there, fighting some ridiculous war. And Takeshi, dead and gone.

The old nightmares of Takeshi's death came back with a vengeance. But even more sinister nightmares came, types that left me breathless and feeling like my entire brain had been invaded. I couldn't describe the feeling. It just _was_.

I dreamt of my old world.

I dreamt of walking through that achingly familiar road, with the buildings rising up around it. The vivid red car that sat near the top of a hill, a large tree with it's branches hanging low over it.

"What are you doin' just standing there?"

For a moment my brain struggled to understand, because this person wasn't speaking Japanese. I turned, every movement sluggish as I regarded the man in front of me. He wasn't a child. He certainly wasn't an Uchiha either — his hair was a dull brown and if I squinted, I could see his eyes were the same colour.

And he was speaking English. It only registered a few seconds later as I stood there, still blinking as he stumbled his way to the car. I watched him hunt through the pockets of his jeans, cursing underneath his breath before he looked up again and laughed, his voice incredibly loud in the quiet street.

"Are you _that_ drunk? I swear, you're the biggest light weight ever!"

I felt myself smile like it was a force of habit, the sound of his laugh relaxing my entire body as I walked towards the red car. The man finally got the car keys out of his pockets and jammed it in the door, wiggling it about for a solid minute until the usual _click_ sounded. He slipped into the car and I followed suit, the movement seeming effortless, seeming _normal_ despite the fact that I hadn't seen a car in years.

Up close, I noticed how much he smelt of alcohol, how every movement of his was slow and sloppy. My mouth didn't open in protest as he turned the car on and we started driving.

Despite the fact that I realised it was a dream, it didn't change anything. My heart began to rise in my throat as I tried to scream, tried to tell this man — why couldn't I remember his _name_ — to stop, because we were about to die.

The car zoomed forward, the surroundings a massive blur. He was laughing, talking, saying something about the night, the bar.

It was about to happen. I could feel it.

My vision blurred drastically as I heard the wheels of the car squeak and it swerve to the side, the man beside me letting out a startled shout as it only continued to spin and spin until it crashed.

I couldn't remember if there had been pain, last time. There was no pain this time, not physical at least. But hearing the windshield crack, hearing the man next to me cry out and then moan in agonising pain and struggle to breathe was worse. Hearing his breath continue to come out in forceful whimpers until it finally faded into nothing.

When my vision returned to me, I turned my head to the side.

Takeshi's face stared back at me, mouth open, eyes gone. I was trapped in the car, forced to stare and stare until my entire body ached. But not with physical pain.

There was no sudden wake up. I woke up sluggishly and slowly, like I had to force myself from that dream. Around me, the familiar sight of the traditional Japanese wooden floors and doors played a huge contrast to the dream I just had.

My old world.

Takeshi.

I couldn't think about it. Either of those things. Takeshi's death and my death. They were irrelevant. My old life was gone, just like Takeshi was gone.

And neither of them were ever coming back.

A knock startled me out of reverie, and Met poked her head in.

"Kiyomi-chan," she greeted, looking perfectly put together despite it probably being early morning. "I'm glad you're awake! How about you fix yourself up and we'll get to work?"

I grumbled a response in reply which seemed to be good enough for her, for she gave me another bright smile before sliding the door shut.

Even though the nightmare still sat firmly in the forefront of my mind, I forced them out. I couldn't focus on it. There was stuff to do.

Like sew. And _fix myself up_ or whatever.

My version of getting ready was far different from Mei's. Even though she had attempted to tame my ridiculous hair when she had first met me by cutting it short, it had instead formed an odd version of a curly mullet, which wasn't really a popular style in a formal Japanese society. It made me look like Madara, except even his hair seemed to follow more of a nice pattern instead of mine.

As usual, the morning was spent sewing with Mei and Yori, the latter spouting her usual ridiculous gossip that most of the time wasn't interesting.

If she had been discussing something interesting, I didn't hear it anyhow. I was too distracted, focusing on the _in and out_ of the stitching, ignoring Yori's sharp voice contrasting with Mei's peaceful one.

The dream felt like it had torn stitches out of a wound that was barely healed. Just a single one, so the wound was bleeding slowly as the other stitches strained to hold everything in.

And _my_ death. That was something I didn't even want to consider. I had completely forgotten that someone had been in the car with me when we crashed. Yet my mind had showed in such explicit detail his own death, each shuddering breath that he struggled to breath in as we both died together in the crushed confines of that red car.

"You seem off this morning, Kiyomi-chan," Mei commented when Yori had left and we were both packing up the scraps of fabric. "Is everything okay?"

 _I had a vivid dream about my old world where I was an idiot who got into a car drunk with another idiot and it crashed and I heard him struggle to breathe and then it turned into Takeshi_.

"I just didn't get that much sleep last night, Mei-san."

She forced a hand onto my forehead, frowning at me. "Are you stressed? You don't need to worry about anything. You know that, right?"

Her saying that quite clearly meant that there was something to worry about. But I gave her a smile until her hand slipped off my forehead.

Mei's lips were pursed as she regarded me. "Very well, then. But you know you can always come to me if you need anything, okay?"

The only thing I would ever consider going to Mei with was when I got my period for the first time in this world. Although it would be rather amusing to go to Tajima with something like that and see his reaction.

"Of course, Mei-san," I chirped, and my voice must have been upbeat enough for her lips twitched upwards.

Unfortunately, the dream had only made my need to train even more intense. And even more unfortunately, the compound had reached a rapid climax. No one was allowed outside. Tajima's door was unusually kept shut, and more often than not I heard shouting echoing from it.

"What's going on?" I asked Madara when I heard him pacing the corridor outside of our rooms.

He shook his head at me. "I'm not allowed to train," he said sullenly. "We're not allowed outside. Father said something about reports of an invasion."

"We have security measures in place, don't we?"

Madara gave me an incredulous look. "Of course we do, you idiot."

"It's just a _question_. It's not like anyone tells me anything about how stuff works."

For a moment, he looked guilty but it faded. "If someone doesn't tell you something, it means you don't need to worry about."

"That's a stupid way of living life."

"Who taught you that word?" Madara demanded. "You shouldn't say that."

" _Stupid_?" I repeated. "Stupid, stupid, stupid. Idiot, idiot, idiot. You taught me that word just then. _Idiot_."

That was a lie. Jin, as was the older brother tradition, had given me the run down on 'swear words' appropriate for a four year old.

Madara's mouth opened and shut as he struggled to come up with a response. "Don't say that again."

I grinned up at him. "Of course!"

His expression softened. "And you're okay? You're not just faking being okay? You're not stressed?"

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

"As fine as I _can_ be," I elaborated. "I'm just worried about Jin. And you."

"Me?" he repeated blankly, looking slightly surprised.

I tried to focus on the expression, trying to read it, but his face was carefully neutral. "Yes, _you_. You're my brother as well."

Our fight before Takeshi's death was forgiven but it certainly wasn't forgotten. _Cold hearted monster_ still echoed through my head, and it was now _Madara_ who gave _me_ apprehensive looks, as if he didn't quite know what to make of me.

"I—" Madara stopped, fidgeting, which was unusual. It was Jin who fidgeted — Madara was always still, every movement he made confident and with purpose. "I thought—"

"You thought?"

"You always look at me as if I'm going to hurt you. Or hurt _someone_."

Guilt flushed through me. "It's not—I just see you training. And you're good."

"You're an awful liar, Kiyomi. I'm your older _brother_. I would never hurt you."

"I'm sorry," I said immediately.

He scoffed. "Apologies are worthless if you don't mean them."

"I don't wanna fight."

"Then _tell_ me so I can fix it."

Some things couldn't be fixed. I didn't know how to see Madara in any way but the one I saw from my old world. The powerful, infallible man who led the world into a horrifying war. I _wanted_ to stop him from becoming this. And I did love him.

I tried to smile. "I'm sorry. I just—I think it's different things. I'm jealous of you, because I wanna train. And I see that you're so strong. Plus you are a little scary sometimes."

"So are you," Madara retorted. "You know Izuna is slightly terrified of you?"

"He shouldn't be."

"Well he is. And—I don't—you don't have the Sharingan, do you?"

I blinked at him. "No," I said slowly. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" he asked, voice tense. "You saw—you saw him die. You should've—didn't you love him?"

"You can't use whether or not I get the Sharingan as a way to decide if I love someone!" I snapped, crossing my arms. "That's ridiculous!"

"That's how it _works_!"

I shrugged. "Well maybe I _can't_ get it. Maybe I'm just doomed to be a stupid _idiot_ sitting in her room sewing! Maybe I'm not a real Uchiha! _I don't know_!"

Madara fell silent. We both stared at each other. I had forgotten we were in the corridor where anyone could witness our fight, where people probably _had_.

"Don't say that word," he said finally.

I gaped at him. "Are you serious?"

"I'm very serious."

We continued to stare at each other until Madara's lip quirked upwards and then he was laughing. It took me a moment before I joined him.

"You are an idiot," he told me. "And you are a real Uchiha."

I wasn't. But laughing with Uchiha Madara — my _brother_ — in an empty corridor almost made me feel like one.

* * *

Kosuke was a horrible person. I had witnessed this when he trained people — his harsh words and the way he subtly used violence to teach _teenagers_ was disgusting.

But it seemed the increase in pressure and stress from the war made him worse.

At dinners, he was downright antagonistic towards Madara and I. And Tajima would simply watch on with a vacant expression on his face.

"When I was your age, I was already on the front lines," Kosuke informed Madara, a sneer on his face. "As far as I'm concerned, you're not progressing enough."

This was the fifth night in a row where Kosuke had continuously pestered Madara. It had started off simple, goading him into an argument about his technique when throwing kunai, his katas, his hot-headed nature.

"You were probably on the front lines at that age because they wanted to get rid of you," I said, the words slipping through my lips before I could stop them.

Across from me, Shin choked on his food. Kosuke's mouth fell open, his face rapidly going red. When I peeked at Tajima out of the corner of my eye, I was absolutely certain that he was struggling to contain his laughter.

"Why—you absolute piece of—"

"There are children present at the table, Kosuke-san," Tajima interjected delicately. "Please mind your words."

Kosuke shot Tajima an incredulous look. "Are you going to discipline your children or not? That— _girl_ could murder someone and you'd let her get away with it!"

"Isn't murdering a shinobi's job?" I interrupted.

Madara shoved me under the table, giving me a quelling look.

"You do not need to concern yourself with me disciplining my children, Kosuke-san," Tajima informed him.

For the rest of the day, I waited to be summoned into Tajima's room to be lectured about my behaviour. But it never came.

Instead, while I was waiting in my room, pacing the length of it, I heard loud shouting. Kosuke's annoyingly sharp yet somehow still relatively quiet voice was distinct. That wasn't the main course of the noise, though. The loud voice was agitated, and it took me a moment — and a peek out the corridor — to realise it was Yoshino.

Ignoring the fact that I knew I shouldn't eavesdrop, I crept into one of the nearby closets just around the corner from where I knew them to be.

"You _will_ do as I say," Kosuke said, his voice going deathly quiet.

"I can't refuse this! I can't—you can't honestly expect me to do this."

"This will take _years_ , Yoshino. This is exactly the thing we needed."

"And you don't think he knows that?"

"You will do this, Yoshino. That's final."

There was a momentary silence.

"I don't want to."

The slap echoed through the corridor, yet it was the _thud_ as Yoshino's body landed on the ground that felt louder to me. I remained where I was, barely daring to breathe.

"You _will_ do it," Kosuke barked.

His footsteps sounded like an elephant stomping through the hallway until they faded into nothing. Slowly, I crept out of the closet and peered around the corner. Yoshino sat on his knees on the ground, hand cupping his cheek, his back towards me.

"He shouldn't treat you like that."

Yoshino turned around, visibly stunned, his entire body stiff.

"What—"

"He shouldn't have done that," I repeated.

"You shouldn't have intruded on private moments," Yoshino said, though there was no bite in his voice and he didn't seem at all bothered that I had heard overheard some of their conversation.

I gave him a sad smile. "It's a bit hard to ignore."

"You should get used to trying. That's what this clan is built on. Ignoring things."

There was a bitterness and vulnerability to his voice that I had never heard before, mostly because we had barely exchanged words. He reminded me of Takeshi, only a Takeshi that was resigned to the harsh and cruel life of a shinobi, who seemed like he was one step away from becoming his father.

I refused to say that, though. I knew how much it would hurt if someone told me I was like Tajima, and Kosuke was _far_ worse than Tajima.

"You should leave," Yoshino said finally. "He would be furious if he saw me talking to you."

Even though it killed me inside, I walked away from his room, ignoring the adult within me screaming to confront Kosuke and show _him_ how it feels to be treated that way.

The rest of my mind was running through the conversation. It didn't reveal anything directly. There had been no names mentioned. I didn't know who the elusive _he_ was. If it was Madara or if it was Tajima or someone else entirely.

In a way, I didn't care. My concern was for Yoshino. He was so young and it was clear that he had a lot of responsibility. He was training the clan head's son, he went onto the front lines himself _and_ he was helping Kosuke with something.

I didn't think he would be the type of person to appreciate my concern, though. His embarrassment at me finding him like that had been palpable. My pity would be unwanted.

Yet for some reason or another, when I returned to my room that night after assisting Mei and Yori with dinner, Yoshino sat on the ground, perfectly at ease, the sword Tajima had gifted me sitting on his lap.

"What—what are you doing in here?" I asked, not daring to believe for the answer I wanted.

"I thought that would have been obvious. You wanted me to teach you how to use this, correct?"

His words took a moment to register, and I couldn't control the grin that slowly spread across my face. He looked confused at my reaction.

"It's not that great," he said quickly.

" _Thank you_!" I bowed so low my nose nearly touched the ground before whipping my head up to give him another beam. "And I—well, I don't know how I'll do, because I've never really exercised properly but I'll definitely try my best! I promise, you won't regret this, I'll train super hard and I'll—"

"Slow down," Yoshino ordered. "And relax."

I nodded hastily, not wanting to disappoint him in the slightest in case he changed his mind. "Okay. Okay. Just—tell me what to do!"

"Get some rest," he said and I blinked.

"What?"

"You're going to need it," he informed me, and for a moment there was a small smirk on his face. "I'll come get you in the late afternoon and we'll train outside."

"I thought we weren't allowed outside?"

Yoshino shrugged. "It'll be fine."

I scrutinised him. "Is this—is this because of today?"

"Not everything needs a reason behind it."

"But—"

"Do you want to be trained or not?" He waited until I quickly nodded before continuing. "Then shut up and get some rest."

"Okay!"

Yoshino found me the next day in my room, sewing diligently away. He raised an eyebrow and I gave him a bright smile.

"I'm a lady," I informed him.

"I'm certain that ladies don't speak back to adults and essentially tell them that they deserve to die."

I flushed. "I—"

"Don't bother apologising to me. I don't care."

Without another word, he left, leading me outside to the courtyard. It was empty, as I was fairly certain we weren't allowed to go outside. Yet there were no guards around to tell us off. He led me around the side to a thin strip of grass between the edge of the forest and the actual compound.

The side of the compound was away from view from everything and only accessible by crawling through a rather large hedge. Yoshino did this with ease and grace whereas I stumbled through, landing on my knees and wincing. He was barely paying attention to me though — his hands were going through hand seals so quickly I felt dizzy watching. When he had finished whatever he was doing, he turned to me.

"Now no one will know where we are," Yoshino informed me.

A thousand questions immediately jumped to my mind. "What—but _how_?"

"I didn't realise you were one of those types to ask endless questions."

I bit my tongue to hold in my true thoughts. How could he _not_ have questions? How could these people just accept that this was their life and that they could breathe fire and control wind and earth like it was nothing? Even if I had been born in this world and hadn't known my old one, I couldn't imagine just accepting this.

Yoshino breathed out a tired sigh. "It's a type of genjutsu. Different type of genjutsu control different senses. The more senses you engage and change with a person, the harder it is."

"So you placed a genjutsu on everyone in the compound?"

"I placed it in an area. If someone comes over here to search for you, they won't see you." When he saw my mouth begin to open, he shook his head. "Just shut up and be thankful that no one here is a proficient sensor-nin."

Even though I didn't want to, I nodded, trying to seem eager to obey his instructions. Yoshino scrutinised me for another moment before letting out another sigh.

"The sword that Tajima-sama gave you is called a _kodachi_ sword. It's rarely used by itself, but because it's smaller than most and you're—well, _young_ , I can imagine that's why your father gave it to you. It's ridiculously common, though."

I didn't know whether to be offended that Tajima had essentially given me a sword that seemed to be used by 'commoners' or whatever.

"So, are you gonna teach me how to use it?" I asked, shifting impatiently as I held the slightly curved dagger-like blade in my hand.

Yoshino gave me a wry smile that I didn't like the look of. "I suppose you could say that."

Before I could even blink, he was in front of me and I was being pushed onto the ground. Every single one of my senses went into overdrive as I desperately tried to avoid the blade I had just held casually in my hands and considered something beautiful — now it just seemed dangerous.

"What the—I could have _died_!" I snapped, standing up quickly and dropping the sword onto the ground. "I could have fallen on that and—I could have _died_!"

Yoshino rolled his eyes, looking very much like the pre-pubescent teen he was. "Exactly. You need to know how to hold it properly and how to fall without looking like a graceless idiot. I would have thought the clan head's daughter would have more grace than you do, but this demonstration now and the way you climbed through that shrub prove otherwise."

I scowled. "As if a four year old would care about a lesson about _posture!_ "

"It's probably the only lesson you should have listened to. Posture and flexibility are everything. Pick up the kodachi."

I obeyed, albeit hesitantly. Yoshino looked amused.

"Push me over," he advised me.

Even though it could have been a trick and he was instead going to have me sprawled on the ground again, I focused all my anger at this smug idiot who barely even had _acne_ and shoved him over with all my strength. To my surprise, Yoshino actually did fall, though unlike me I watched him rearrange his limbs effortlessly as he tucked himself into a roll and was then standing barely a second later.

"You've had practise!" I said at once.

"Stop making excuses for your behaviour and start learning," Yoshino said, his voice sounding irritated. "I have had practise. And it's about time you had practise too."

The next two hours consisted of me not actually using the kodachi once. Instead, I actively tried to avoid it as I rolled and rolled and rolled. It felt like I was five again in my old world and had just discovered the joys of somersaults on the trampoline.

Except there were no joys in this. There was just a lot of pain, grass and Yoshino looking amused.

When the sun finally was lingering low on the horizon, Yoshino didn't push me when I got up. I watched him hesitantly, half expecting a surprise attack out of no where.

"The only good thing I've seen so far out of you is your paranoia," Yoshino informed me, sounding as if he didn't care. "You always expect the worst. I suppose it's natural, for an Uchiha."

There it was again — the disdain that crept into his voice when he spoke about the clan.

"Well I'm glad I did _something_ right," I mumbled, barely having the energy to speak.

A small smile appeared on Yoshino's face, similar to the way Madara smiled whenever he was trying to stay angry at me but couldn't.

"You should head back now," he said suddenly. "People are going to start looking for you, if they haven't already."

This was usually the time where I barricaded myself in my room and focused on sewing. Mei rarely bothered me in that time, and everyone else was usually busy with their own training or other things.

I followed Yoshino through the bushes, where the courtyard was empty. It was usually Yoshino who trained by himself at this time. He turned to me, his eyes narrowed as he glanced over my dishevelled appearance.

"Are you satisfied, then?" he asked.

There was a hum in my blood that pouring tea and sewing flowers just hadn't quite had for me. Every individual bone and muscle ached. I couldn't imagine a time when I had felt this way in my old life. There was no comparison.

"No," I said, giving him a wide grin. "I'm not satisfied just yet."

And so began the months where Yoshino would proceed to push me into the ground, where my sword became something I was scared of falling on top of. I didn't see any sign of improvement, though it was difficult to gauge. The only thing that vaguely improved was my ability to climb through the hedge leading into the side of the compound with mild grace.

It took me awhile to muster up the courage to show Yoshino Hana's old book. I didn't know why I didn't want to ask him to teach me something from it. Maybe it was because I knew that this book was for women who combined fighting and sexuality in a sinister combination to take down people. Mostly men.

When I did, Yoshino scrutinised it, his expression void of judgement.

"It belonged to my mother," I said when he looked at me questioningly. "I wanted to learn the _henge_ one."

He flipped to the page and scanned it briefly. "That's more complicated than the basic _henge_. You should learn the basic one first. It would be a good test of your chakra, as well. You have to constantly be outputting your chakra. You can't let it falter for a second."

I nodded, eagerly lapping up the information as if my life depended on it. Because it did. People had died. More importantly, Takeshi had died.

And I needed to be able to do something next time. Or at least _try_ and do something.

Yoshino's explanation of the _henge_ ninjutsu was basic and brief, because that was what he claimed it was. Yet when my tiny hands fumbled through the hand seals and I focused intently on emitting chakra while thinking about the form I wanted to take, nothing really happened.

First I tried Madara, because I thought I knew his face like the back of my hand. But even then I realised that I needed all the little intricacies to do it.

The moment I thought of my old self, with my brown hair and eyes — so different from the Uchiha — I felt it click. My height rose, reaching just above Yoshino, and I felt my messy and unruly hair shorten and straighten out.

Yoshino blinked as he stared at me, looking confused. "I—" he began but stopped. "Who is—"

Before he could finish his question, I lost concentration and felt the image fade around me until I was back to my old height, back to my old hair that hung annoyingly in my face.

"You need to practise that," Yoshino said, not bothering to continue his question.

I smiled.

Because that was exactly what I planned to do.

* * *

It wasn't until the start of summer that we were officially allowed to go into the courtyard. Yoshino and I still trained down the side, however we always snuck there, attempting to avoid people's suspicious glances.

I didn't know if Yoshino was technically allowed to be training me when he was meant to be focusing on Madara. I didn't know if anyone knew. I didn't even know _why_ he was training me.

But the few months that Yoshino had spent training me filled me with a determination that wouldn't be quelled. I no longer nearly impaled myself on my own sword when I fell. Though it was shaky and easy to see through, I could hold a henge of Madara relatively successfully.

Progress felt like a drug I couldn't quite enough of.

When Jin returned from a particularly long mission and actually stayed for more than a day, he gaped at me as we ate breakfast together.

"What?" I demanded, touching my face self consciously. I knew my appearance had changed slightly. My usual mullet like hairstyle had been replaced by a tight braid that Mei had taught me how to do. I knew I was getting taller, as well.

"You just—you look different," Jin said, blinking at me. "You look older."

I gave him a smile, showing him that I was missing a few of my teeth. "I am nearly five."

"I know! That's terrifying, Kiyo-chan. Why just yesterday you were a tiny little girl who never spoke back to her elders and was very cute!"

"I'm _still_ cute."

He ruffled my hair, reaching across the tatami table to do so. "I like your confidence! But you do look different. What's changed?"

The question was posed casually but I knew Jin was intent on finding out what was different. I didn't want to tell Madara in case he got weirdly jealous. But Jin was Jin.

"You know Yoshino, right?" I asked and he nodded. "Well, he's kinda training me. In secret. Kinda."

"I thought—Yoshino-kun's training Madara, isn't he?"

"Yeah, but that's official training. With me he kinda just pushes me around and makes me try and balance on water and other stuff."

Jin frowned. "That sounds an awful lot like official training as well."

He didn't look happy to hear what I had just said. His brow was furrowed, and he moved his rice around in his bowl with his chopsticks.

"You're not happy," I commented.

"Oh—well, if you're happy, then I am as well, Kiyo-chan. I just—I don't want you to be out there. You're my only sister! I worry about you."

"You shouldn't," I told him. "You should worry about Madara. He's Madara."

Jin laughed. "But you're Kiyomi," he replied, as if that meant something. "And I—well, how about this? Tonight you can show me what you've learnt. And you never know, I may even give you some advice! I'm not as good as Yoshino-kun, he's _scary_ , but I know you better than he does."

"I'd love that!" I said and Jin laughed once again at the excitement on my face.

Mei lectured me viciously that day as I fanned rice for her, constantly getting distracted as I thought of Jin running through exercises with me. It wasn't that I didn't like Yoshino. In fact, his personality suited mine perfectly. His sharp words and dry humour were exactly what I needed.

But I loved Jin, and part of me wanted desperately to impress him. To show him that he _didn't_ need to worry about me.

When I finally scrambled away from Mei's angry comments about my lack of concentration and went to the courtyard at night, Jin was already outside, leaning against a tree, his eyes closed, a content smile on his face.

I wished I could take a photo, for it was a rare moment when he looked so at peace, when there were no visible bruises on his face.

"Kiyo-chan," he greeted without opening his eyes. "Are you ready?"

"Of course I am!"

He opened one eye and gave me a lazy grin. "Then show me what you've got."

Despite it being dark outside, Jin lit a lantern and watched as I showed him how I fell, how I could roll effortlessly and adjust my limbs to lesson the damage. I showed him the leaf exercise and led him to the small pond on the side of the compound, where I stood on the water for a total of three brilliant seconds before scrambling off.

When I got to the henge and transformed into Madara, Jin burst out laughing.

"You make him look so evil!" he said, grinning.

I held it for about ten seconds before allowing my chakra to return back to my body, panting slightly. "Sometimes he looks pretty evil!"

Jin ruffled my hair and wrapped a warm arm around my shoulder. "You're—you're doing well, Kiyo-chan," he said as we returned back to the courtyard, sitting on the steps together. "You have potential. A lot of it. But I suppose you always were pretty smart."

"Madara's smarter," I said, shrugging as if it didn't bother me.

"Well, in a way, I suppose. But even though you're a bit of a brat sometimes, you have an odd maturity about you."

I didn't say anything and just took in the mild summer air combined with Jin's solid presence beside me. He was different to Takeshi in the sense that he wasn't as sturdy. But there was still that sense of reliability about Jin.

"Do you miss Izuna?" Jin asked me, his voice quiet.

"Of course I do," I replied immediately, looking into his eyes. "I—I just want him to be safe, though. And if this is the way he's safe, then that's good."

Jin smiled, but it looked forced. "I—I insisted for Father to take you to the northern compound as well. But he didn't. I still don't understand why. You and Izuna both should have gone to that compound and stayed together."

"I'm sure he has his reasons."

"Oh, he always does. I just don't think I'd like his reasons very much."

I didn't have a reply for that. Jin most likely knew of my semi hatred towards Tajima, or at least of my disdain towards him. It was pretty obvious.

The silence wasn't awkward. It felt comforting. My relationship with Madara had used to be like that, just us sitting outside and enjoying each other's company. But that didn't happen anymore.

Jin's body tensed beside me suddenly and I stared up at him.

"What is it?" I asked as he frowned, looking around.

"I just—nothing. I don't think it's anything," he replied, but I watched his Sharingan activate as he stared off into the distance.

"Jin?" I prompted, nudging him lightly with my knee.

He grabbed my arm and within seconds the compound was out of sight and I was in the middle of the forest. My heart began to race as I gripped onto his hand.

" _Jin_?"

"Be quiet," he hissed, voice harsh as he stared frantically into the forest.

I couldn't hear anything. It sounded just like it had when we had been lounging on the steps of the courtyard. Yet Jin's eyes were gleaming red and he was obviously seeing something I couldn't.

It was the first time I wished for the Sharingan so I could see just what danger we were in, if any.

A huge _bang_ filled the air and I jolted, turning around frantically as I tried to see where it came from. Jin's hand was sweaty and tight in mine. In the distance, I could see flames beginning to rise as smoke started to fill the air.

"That's—that's the compound. Jin, we have to get back and get the others out!" I said, tugging on his hand.

"Well isn't this cute."

We both spun around at the same time. Jin's hand left mine and immediately dropped to his sword as he stared at the man in front of us who leaned against a tree, looking perfectly at ease.

"Let me guess," he said, beginning to walk towards us. "Uchiha Jin and Kiyomi?"

The air became stifling and I started to choke, clutching at my neck as I tried to breathe. The man laughed at my reaction, though it quickly died as Jin lunged at him, sword out as he swung in a wide arc.

I didn't even see the man disappear and then reappear a few metres away. Air was still trying to fill my lungs. It felt like the air was thick and it was almost like I could _feel_ that this man wanted to kill us. He wanted to kill us. He wanted to end two innocent people's lives. Two people who weren't even teenagers.

My back hit the tree and I watched with wide eyes as the fight took place.

" _Jin_!" I screamed, watching as he dodged and dodged and kept dodging. _Run_ , I wanted to scream, but the words were lodged deep within my throat.

I thought of Yoshino going through the basic henge ninjutsu, his words laced with slight impatience. The hand signs. The intent. The movement of chakra running through my body. The intent.

The chakra simmered through me, wrapping itself around me like a blanket as I felt my appearance alter, felt my hair straighten out, my facial features slimming to replicate my brothers. I had seen his face countless times. The dimpled grin, the crooked teeth and nose, the thin lips.

When Jin managed to throw the shinobi on the ground, his gaze moving away from him for a split second, I charged in. There were no weapons around me to use. I didn't have any talent.

His fist hit me in the side of my face and I felt my entire body move. I didn't fall to the ground. I was flung into a tree, my back slamming into it as bits of bark dug into my back. In an instance the chakra surrounding me flittered away as pain flowed through my body.

"What's this?" the man said, laughing as he spat blood out of his mouth. "The little princess of the Uchiha clan trying to fight?"

"Get away from _her_!" Jin screamed, re-engaging with the shinobi, his eyes gleaming red. "Your clan—you killed my brother. You're not getting another one of my siblings."

"Oh, our clan will get you all, you annoying pieces of shit. We got that fucking passive Uchiha, we'll get you, the ridiculous upbeat one. We'll get the only one with potential, this little bitch here and then the youngest. He'll probably cry, won't he? So young and so naive. And then fucking Tajima. That fucking bastard will burn in hell."

Without warning, he appeared behind Jin, ramming the but of his sword into Jin's back. He crumpled to the ground and I watched, fear burning through every fibre of my being as he attempted to roll away from the man. The shinobi stepped on the hand holding the sword and Jin howled in pain.

The sword was kicked to the side. The shinobi placed his own against Jin's neck and turned to look back at me.

"Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

My back ached. My hands were shaking.

He smirked at me. "Nothing left? Not gonna pull out a cute little sewing needle and stab me with it?"

Jin attempted to get up, trying to push his legs to flip the shinobi over but he effortlessly avoided it, pushing the tip of his sword harder against his neck until a little drop of blood spilled out.

" _Kiyomi!_ " Jin screamed.

"That's a bit cruel, don't you think, expecting your little sister to save you?" the shinobi taunted, staring down at Jin's face. "No? Oh well."

The movement was so small, so quick. It was funny to think of little movements that could do so much damage. Just a left hand moving downwards. Simple muscle movements.

I stood up. " _Jin_!" I screamed as he began to convulse on the ground, his hands reaching for his throat in an attempt to stop the blood flow.

The shinobi grinned. "And now your turn. Now look, I'm not all that heartless so I'll make it quick for you. After all, you're just a girl."

Jin.

 _Jin_.

My brain throbbed. My entire body erupted in rage. My chakra had always been easy to pull in and out of me, easy to control the flow of it. But I felt it boil out of my skin, felt it fill the air just like the smoke was. The man blinked at me, taking one step away.

"You—"

I screamed, my throat aching as smoke rushed into my lungs. It felt like I was an elastic band that had been pulled back the furthest it could go.

And then it was released.

The man began screaming with me, his hands reaching up to tear at his eye balls. I couldn't look away, my hatred burning and bubbling to the surface, erupting into this person.

This person. The Kenta clan. They killed Takeshi. And now —

I vaguely heard the man stop screaming as I hurried to Jin lying on the ground, his entire body still convulsing as if the very notion of living was too difficult.

"Kiyo-chan," he whispered, the blood gurgling from his throat. His wet hands, coated in sticky blood, grabbed my cheek, holding me in place. "I don't wanna die."

This was different to Takeshi. This wasn't seeing a shinobi emerge from his room while being strangled, automatically assuming the worst but simultaneously hoping for the best. This wasn't witnessing a dead person, but witnessing a person die.

"I—just hang on," I said, trying to ignore the shouts and screams around me that were beginning to register as I applied as much pressure as I could to the wound near his lungs. "Jin, _please_."

He gave me a small smile, a gasp forcing itself out of his body as he did. "Kiyo-chan. Don't—you—I believe in you. Father—he—" He gasped once again, this time harsher and hoarser, his mouth opening and closing as no sound came out.

"Jin, no, just—just wait a second, hold on, okay? Just—I don't know, just breathe, okay, I'm here, just breathe, just breathe, just breathe—"

He couldn't. I watched his breath fade and stutter, his entire body shuddering as if it took all the energy within his entire being to force out a single breath. His hands clenched mine tightly, his eyes so wide that I could see the tiny veins within them.

" _Jin!_ " I screamed, squeezing his hand so tightly I thought it would snap. "Jin, no, just—come on, just come back!"

My tiny hands weren't capable of performing of CPR. My strength was weak. His heart had stopped. His entire throat was vivid red. It didn't even matter.

"Kiyomi!"

My head spun. Jin's hand was limp in mine.

"Kiyomi!"

I didn't understand. I didn't —

" _Kiyomi!"_

 _Jin._

A sharp stabbing pain made me blink and I stared, not really registering Yoshino towering over me. He had slapped me, I realised. He had slapped me.

Jin was dead.

"Kiyomi, you need to move." He lowered down to my level, forcing me to look at him. "Do you understand? You have to move. _Now_."

It was an order, I realised dimly. But Jin. Jin was —

" _Kiyomi_ ," he barked, sounding distinctly like Kosuke.

He effortlessly heaved me up, half dragging me away from Jin's body. It lay there. Unmoving.

"Jin," I gasped out, struggling against Yoshino. "No, his body—his—we have to go back."

Yoshino didn't even glance my way as he continued forcing me forwards and I reached a patch of forest that wasn't covered in flame and smoke. He dropped me on the ground, suddenly disappearing and I stared as he reappeared beside Jin's body, doing something with it.

But it didn't really matter what he did with it.

Within a moment he was by my side once again, forcing me upwards.

"I can't," I mumbled, closing my eyes as I was propelled forward. "I can't."

Yoshino gripped my shoulders so tightly I knew it would bruise. "I don't care if you think you can't," he snapped. "You have to. Do you understand? You do not stop moving until I order you to stop. You keep going. And when you think you want to stop, you _still_ keep going. Do you understand?"

When I didn't reply, he shook me.

" _Do you understand?"_

 _No_. "Yes," I said, and began moving.

* * *

 **A/N:** hopefully this mammoth of a chapter will make up for it being a week late!

this chapter made me sad for obvious reasons. but yeah. Life goes on? kind of?

anyway as usual thank you for everyone who reviewed/followed/faved, I appreciate it! and feel free to tell me what you think about this chapter! I haven't replied to all of the reviews on the last chapter because I'm currently dead on my feet atm hahahaha (life always gets ridiculously busy sometimes) but I definitely will get around to it.

next chapter should be up in 2 weeks!


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

"I can't do this. I can't. I really—I can't."

Logically, I knew Yoshino was ahead of me. But I couldn't see further than my own two feet. He was silent, as well. Maybe if he spoke, I would know. That he was there.

There was no heavy smoke behind us anymore. But I could still feel it in my lungs, stuck there, lodged there, even when I had to stop for a few minutes to cough until my heart felt like it was about to slip out of my throat somehow.

It was only in those moments where I saw Yoshino. He would stand there, bent over, leaning heavily on one leg as he watched me through half-lidded eyes. He was all powerful. I had seen him fight, seen him train. Yet when I could see him, all he looked like was a lost pre-pubescent boy.

"We're not gonna make it," I whispered, my throat hoarse, just after a coughing fit.

He was leaning against a tree, eyes closed. "We are."

I heaved out another desperate cough when I heard his voice. "We're not. I don't—"

 _Shut the fuck up and stop thinking_ , a tiny voice in my head whispered, barely audible through the pounding that I felt vibrating within my skull.

And the journey continued.

Sometimes, when we would rest and I would sit down and Yoshino would look at me and simply _see_ that I didn't want to get up, he would tell me about the northern compound. Our final destination.

"There'll be a bath," he told me, his usual stoic voice quivering. "There'll be—people. A bed."

"Food," I supplied and he nodded, licking his cracked lips. "You shouldn't do that," I told him and Yoshino blinked at me.

"What?"

"Lick your lips. It—it dries them out more."

We both stared at each other, as if registering that we were both sitting down and discussing dried lips after what had just occurred. After what I had just witnessed. And then we continued walking.

I had never seen the Fire Country before, had never witnessed the oppressive heat that occurred during the day when you walked in the sun for hours and hours, or the cool of the night. Yoshino explained, his voice haggard, that it was because we were closer to the Wind Country.

It made things worse. It made walking during the day painful, every step filled with sweat, every river we passed spent lying in it for a few minutes, Yoshino groaning with relief as he washed his wounded knee that he refused to show me.

We journeyed for the remainder of the night and a full day before Yoshino ordered me to stop.

"Enough," he rasped from ahead of me, turning around and dropping to the ground, leaning against a tree. "We need to sleep."

My eyes kept glancing at his leg. He scowled at me.

"Stop looking," he snapped. "It's irrelevant. It's fine."

Most of the time, it sounded like he was reassuring himself whenever he said these things. I didn't care whether or not we made it to the compound. It didn't matter to me. All I wanted to do was sleep and forget or sleep and never wake up again.

"We'll find a cave for shelter," he told me, getting up slowly. "And then—we'll just find a cave."

We scoured the area for shelter together, mostly because we both knew that we would probably just give up without the other.

"We can keep going," I said. "I'm fine to keep going."

He nodded but I could see the frustration in his face. It wasn't me who was being the light weight for once. I knew it wasn't Yoshino's fault. No one could control whether or not they could get injured in a war.

We continued walking, though it was more like stumbling along. Most of the time it was just soft grass and the occasional tree or two. Everything felt fresh and new, different from the war zone that I had experienced in the night. Every now and then I kept feeling like I could smell smoke or burnt flesh and would freeze, even though in front of me there was nothing.

Sometimes when I looked somewhere, I saw Jin and that man who had died mysteriously, lying on the ground motionless. It felt odd to put them in the same category, to call them the same.

Everyone was the same, though, once they were dead.

The first sighting of a cave was when it was well into the night, the cold causing us to shiver uncontrollably. It was clustered into a set of barren cliffs that were pitch black. Once Yoshino searched through one and pronounced it clear, I ventured in after him. The surface was hard and cold, but neither of us cared by that point.

"I'll take first watch," Yoshino told me once I made myself comfortable. "I'll wake you up in a few hours. Get as much rest as you can."

I nodded wearily at him and tried to make myself comfortable on the harsh ground. Curling into myself and being away from the cold night air provided some warmth, but I was still shivering.

Yoshino sat by the entrance to the cave, his silhouette unmoving and quiet.

* * *

The smoke was back, along with the charred flesh. All around me, Jin lay there dead and that man clawed at his eyes. I couldn't look away from him as I watched his nails rake up and down his face, digging into his eyes and trying to tear them out. No noise came out of my mouth despite the fact that I tried so desperately to scream. The smoke was crawling into my throat, into my lungs, suffocating me, _killing_ me.

"I d—don't want to die," Jin whispered, his voice echoing all around me.

I was shaken awake by Yoshino, his eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. My whole body was shaking, I realised, and my eyes stung yet again. Sweat was dripping down my brow.

"Wake me when the sun rises. You can watch now," was all he said as he pushed me gently out of the way and lay down where I had been.

My hands shook as I stood up and made my way to the entrance of the cave. It was covered by a few bushes and I knew that I wouldn't be visible if anyone was walking past. Yet if someone _really_ wanted to, they could come along and kill us. Just like that. I didn't know how to sense chakra. I didn't know how to conceal my own chakra.

All of my own inadequacies seemed to pile up and up.

When the sun finally began to rise and the sky grew lighter, I trudged over to where Yoshino was and shook him awake. He grabbed my wrist and pulled a kunai to my throat instantly. I froze, my eyes widening.

"Instinct," he muttered as he got up, brushing the dirt off his robes.

I nodded weakly, not trusting my voice to say anything without cracking. Even worse, I would probably burst into tears and never stop crying. Everything just felt so odd and strange and I felt like I was looking through everything with foggy glass, like everything was muffled and hard to see. The smallest of tasks, like walking, felt hard and tiring. I knew it was worse for Yoshino with his leg.

"Two more days," he told me firmly as we exited the cave.

We went slower the second day. Every step felt painful. The terrain started to become grassier, lush trees popping out of the ground instead of the barren and hard earth we had walked along all of yesterday.

The next stream we passed, Yoshino nearly fell to his knees, plunging his face into the river and drinking water for minutes. I knew it wasn't just dehydration — sweat was practically dripping from his brow, which made sense due to the summer heat but —

I didn't know how long he was going to last.

"We should keep going," I said, my voice barely audible over the rushing of the river. Yoshino remained seated by the river, his hair covering his face. "Yoshino?"

He looked at me, and I wondered what was going through his head, his mind. Did he just want to give up? Was he thinking about everyone else, if they made it out of the burning compound?

"You have a distinct disregard for formality," he rasped.

"You're eleven, not forty."

A small smile appeared on his face. "I can't believe _you're_ the clan head's daughter. You're meant to be—"

"I'm meant to be me," I interrupted. "And I am me."

He nodded, yet remained unmoving. I knelt beside him, not wanting to rush him, because if Yoshino didn't get up, I wouldn't be able to get up either. I wouldn't be able to make it to a place I had never been before.

"My eyes," I began, lifting a hand to touch them. "I—" I stopped. "How did I—" I stopped once again, not wanting to ask, not daring to ask. I didn't want to know.

But I did.

"Save the questions for when we get to the compound," Yoshino said.

Very slowly, he rose. It was slow. But he did it.

Neither of us spoke for the remainder of that second day. The sun beat down on us. The shrubbery grew and grew, until we were walking through small forests and coming out to long plains. Yet Yoshino never gave any indication that we were close.

Once more, when night came, we scoured for shelter. The barren cliffs that had been so frequent before were now gone.

"We'll just—" Yoshino stopped, leaning against a tree. "We'll just stop here."

The area he indicated was nothing more than a particular close batch of trees. I stared at him, yet his eyes didn't meet mine — his eyes were flickering around sporadically, never focusing on one thing. My stomach turned, because I knew that the only person who would consider this a place to sleep was someone who was about fall over and not get back up.

"Yoshino," I started, my voice breaking. My eyes watered, and I cursed them. My emotions were all rising to the surface at once, threatening to erupt.

There was only so much ignoring I could do.

"Just for a moment," he mumbled, falling to his knees and leaning against the tree.

I could barely see his face. His hair was plastered to his sweaty forehead, and only small strands of moonlight flickered onto his face. But I could still see the way his hands trembled, hear his shallow breaths.

When I approached him, he didn't move a muscle. I grabbed the area around his thigh, gently feeling the damp spot on his pants before tearing a hole in them. All I got was a grunt from him, his eyes not even opening.

I tried to hold in the bile that rose in my throat when I saw the wound.

It was filled with pus, and visibly it seemed to throb in the night air. When I squeezed his arm, he didn't even move.

"Yoshino?" I shook him harder this time, but his head only lolled to the side. " _Yoshino!_ "

Silence, except for his haggard breathing. I willed the tears that were threatening to fall away. I didn't have time to cry. I didn't have time to do anything but attempt to fix this. Somehow.

All the over-the-top ridiculous action movies I had watched in my old life vaguely sprang to mine. Burning the wound or something like that to stop blood flow. But I wasn't some medical student. I had no idea if stuff like that worked.

" _Yoshino_ ," I insisted, pinching his arm. "Y-Yoshino, please. _Wake up_."

His eyes opened slightly, glazed over.

"Tell me what to do," I pleaded. "I-I can't make it back without you. I can't—I can't."

He grabbed my hand, his grip clammy and weak. "Just—focus your chakra to your hand."

I forced myself to think of the leaf exercise, the way I had channelled chakra so easily before. In the moment, though, outside of a small secluded courtyard and with a pounding head and an urgent need for this to _work_ , it didn't happen.

"It's not—it's not _working_ ," I cried, squeezing my eyes shut. "I—I can't get it to work."

"Relax," Yoshino ordered, his grip on my hand tightening painfully. "Relax. Stop thinking. Imagine we're—anywhere but here. Imagine some place you feel safe."

"Safe?" I repeated. "What part of this world is _safe_?"

"Imagine it, make it up, I don't _fucking_ care."

My mind flickered back to the first year of my life in this world, but even then I'd never felt safe. There had never truly been a moment in this life where I had relaxed, felt as if _nothing_ could possibly go wrong.

But in my old world, there were countless memories. They were just harder to grasp, as if I was trying to recall a book I had read years ago. I could only recall the dream I had recently, the one with that man driving in the car and Takeshi —

The man. He was vivid, I realised. My best friend. Maybe.

A memory came to me, as if I had just had to think of his face, those shining eyes, glazed over from alcohol, as he entered the car. Graduating high school. Laughing about some test I had failed because I was rude to the teacher. His bedroom.

I could remember the shitty posters on his wall of dumb rock bands. His double bed where we had both often slept after drunken nights out. Safe.

This time, it was easier to focus my chakra. I pictured the man's laugh, which I could remember clearly, how loud and obnoxious it was.

"That's it," I heard Yoshino say distantly, voice weak, his grip on my hand loosening. "Now open your eyes."

When I did, the sight of his infected wound nearly brought my panic back, but I forced the image out of my mind, focusing on the laughter of my best friend.

"I'm not a medic-nin, so I don't know how to explain it well. And I've only ever seen one person do it before."

"That's comforting," I mumbled.

Yoshino glared. "Focus," he ordered, his voice becoming sharper. "You need to focus your chakra into the wound. But you can't—if you force too much, I'll—go unconscious."

" _What?_ I'm not doing that! If you go unconscious, then—then I'm stuck here. I can't do that. No, I'm not doing this." The chakra focused to my hand dissipated the moment my outburst started, and I glared at it. "If you've only ever seen one person do it before, then it must be a difficult technique."

"What else do you expect to do?" he snapped. "It's this or nothing! We need to take the risk. I can't—I can't continue like this."

 _Do it,_ a voice whispered in the back of my head. _You can do this._

"Kiyomi," Yoshino said, and I knew that was the closest I would ever get to a please from him.

I tried to focus, tried to tune out the sinister rustling noises of the trees in the forest and the other night life.

 _That's it. Just focus. You can do this. It's easy._

It was almost as if I were in a dream, after that, as if someone else was guiding my body even though I knew — at least, I thought I knew — the motions and the actions were my own. My hands hovered over his wound, and I felt my chakra seep into the wound even though I felt like I wasn't doing anything to will it to move that way.

But I had to be. Somehow.

 _Just focus_ , the voice repeated, sounding sweet rather than sinister like before.

My chakra was cut off before I could even blink. I stared at the space where my hand had just been touching the wound, and noticed that my knees ached, as if I had been sitting there for ages.

"What—" I began, but stopped. My head felt weak, and I remembered that feeling I had when I had practised the leaf technique too many times.

I had almost depleted my chakra.

But it had felt like seconds, just seconds, that I had held my hand there.

"You did it," Yoshino breathed, looking in awe. "Have you—how?"

"I just followed your instructions," I said quickly. "I guess it was luck."

Yoshino looked dubious. "Luck," he repeated. "Alright. I won't argue. I feel—like shit, but better."

I gave him a smile, though I knew it wasn't convincing. I didn't understand what had just occurred, and part of me didn't want to. The voice in my head remained silent, as if letting me stew on it and not giving me any input.

Why would it give me input, anyway? It was just some kind of mental barrier or reaction or whatever to everything that had happened.

"We can't rest now," Yoshino said, standing up and stretching out his leg tentatively. "We need to keep moving. We're close. We're close, okay? Not far."

Even though my entire body ached and my head was throbbing, I followed Yoshino, step after step.

The night was freezing, yet we continued anyway, until all we were walking through now was a dense forest, no empty spaces in sight. This seemed to make Yoshino even happier, as his pace sped up, despite the fact I was struggling to maintain the original one.

I hadn't eaten in close to three days. I hadn't slept properly in close to three days.

This entire journey felt like one horrifying blur of a nightmare.

"Keep up," Yoshino ordered from ahead of me.

I scowled. "I'm _significantly_ younger than you! And just healed your leg! I—I can't keep up."

He stopped, turning around to face me. "Do you need to rest?" he asked, though by his tone I could clearly tell he didn't want to rest.

"Don't give me the passive aggressive cr—stuff! Of course I need to rest! I healed you! That doesn't just take up no energy, especially when some idiot is thundering through a forest!"

"Where do you learn these stupid words from?" Yoshino said, rolling his eyes. "And just calm down. You're letting all your emotions out."

" _I'm sorry, isn't that what you're supposed to do_ _?_ "

"We'll rest."

The anger and adrenaline deflated from me at once, and I felt like a limp balloon. Yoshino was still staring at me, as if my outburst had shocked him.

When I was settled against a tree, Yoshino awake and sitting beside me to retain warmth in the early morning hours, he sighed.

"I forget sometimes," he said, voice so quiet I could have imagined him speaking. "That you're only four."

"Nearly five," I mumbled, my cheek smashed into his upper arm. "I'm nearly five."

He scoffed. "Right. A few months hardly matters." There was a beat of silence. "You just seem—years older."

His words hit me hard, and I felt tears spring to my eyes as I thought of my old world — safe.

"I feel years older," I said, voice flat.

More silence.

"Me too," Yoshino whispered, as if he were ashamed of what he was admitting.

With Yoshino's steady presence beside me, I managed to drift off for a few hours, restless and with no distinguishable dreams, until the first few rays of sun leaked through the thick forest trees and hit my face.

I blinked away the sleep from my eyes. Yoshino was still beside me, and though his eyes were closed, his breathing wasn't slow enough for him to be sleeping.

"You ready to keep moving?" he asked, eyes still closed.

When I nodded, he was upright within seconds.

"We're not stopping again," he informed me. "So no more ridiculous breakdowns. They won't work next time."

I scowled, not bothering to reply to his obvious shit stirring, and instead chose to march ahead of him.

"You're going in the wrong direction!" he called out.

Yoshino was a smug bastard.

"Then lead the way," I snapped, storming back to him. He raised an eyebrow, then began walking in the same direction I had been going in, a smirk on his face.

We spent the rest of the journey in silence, both of us determined to keep moving at a fast pace, only stopping to pass a stream and drink or pee in a bush.

I didn't know what he was looking for, or if he was even looking for anything. There had to be _some_ sign that we were close to the compound, or that the compound was near. It couldn't just appear, could it?

That wasn't safe.

Yoshino begin to slow down, though, and take more time in choosing which trees to wind through, which seemed unnecessary to me. As long as we were going in the right direction, then it didn't matter, did it?

I followed him, taking the same care he did.

The compound appeared out of no where. It wasn't there, and then moments later it was.

I blinked, startled, until I saw a multitude of guards surrounding it. Two of them began to approach us, and I tensed, even though I knew this had to be the compound, and they were Uchiha.

"Stop!" the guard ordered, walking over to us. The other one followed at a slower place.

"I am Uchiha Yoshino, son of Kosuke, who is on the council. This is Kiyomi, Tajima-sama's daughter."

The two exchanged dubious glances, and I knew that all they were seeing was an exhausted barely teenager and a filthy four year old girl, dressed in pants and an Uchiha shirt, who hardly looked like the clan head's daughter.

"Get my father," Yoshino snapped, his hand on my shoulder quivering as he struggled to remain standing, as if the moment we were there, he realised how exhausted he was. "Get my father and ask him."

One of them left, while the other simply continued to stare at us suspiciously. I glowered at him, because this stupid idiot was preventing me from _everything_. Sleep, food, shelter. It was all there, behind him, but this _idiot_ was stopping me.

"Stop it," Yoshino hissed in my ear. "You're releasing your chakra everywhere. They're only doing their job."

When Kosuke arrived, he stared at us, his mouth hanging open. I wondered what was the most shocking to him — that his son was leaning heavily on someone who hated, that we were both alive, or that we had arrived together.

"Is this your son and Tajima-sama's daughter?" the guard asked him, voice laced with impatience.

"I—" he began, still staring. "I—yes. Yes, that's my son. And Tajima's daughter."

The guard in front of us stepped aside, and we trudged up the stairs, only stopping when we were standing before Kosuke. The other guard disappeared into the compound.

"Yoshino," Kosuke said, touching his cheek lightly. "You—"

"We're both exhausted," Yoshino interrupted, voice flat. "Can we save this conversation for tomorrow?"

Kosuke's eyes flickered to mine, narrowing. "Very well, then."

The main corridor of the northern compound felt endless. I didn't know if I could make it to wherever I would collapse, fall asleep and not wake up for five days. But I didn't have to.

Our arrival seemed to have been heavily broadcasted from the moment we first talked to the guard. There were multiple people staring in the corridor as Kosuke led the way down it, continuously looking back to glance at us as if to make sure we were there.

We rounded the corner, and I almost fell over when I saw Tajima standing there, a rare look of genuine shock on his face as he stared at us.

"Tajima-sama, they were—"

"I can see," he interrupted, voice flat. His eyes met mine. "I'll take Kiyomi from here."

His hand touched my shoulder, his grip feather light yet somehow firm enough to guide me away from everyone staring and down an emptier corridor.

"T-Tajima," I whispered, leaning all my weight on him.

He didn't even flinch at my use of his first name, as if he expected his only daughter to address him in that manner. When we reached a random room, he slid open the door and helped me down onto a cushion inside, but even then he didn't let go, one hand still resting on my shoulder.

"J-Jin, he—"

"Don't talk about that now," he ordered, voice soft. "There's enough time to talk about that later. For now, you need to recover. Both mentally and physically."

Even though I didn't ever want to cry in front of this man, I felt the tears begin to leak out anyway and I turned away from him, his hand slipping from my shoulder.

"Don't look," I mumbled as I hastily wiped away the tears. I forced myself to breathe, in and out, in and out, steady and calm until I looked at him again, and this time properly.

Tajima looked exhausted. Not the exhausted he had when he had returned, one half of his face covered in bandages. His usual sharp cheekbones were even more pronounced, his hair mangled and messy, dark shadows looming underneath his eyes. His hands sat in his lap, the knuckles protruding because his grip on them was so tight.

"Jin's dead," I said, forcing the words out. "Oh. I think—I'm gonna vomit."

As if he dealt with people about to vomit on him regularly, a pot plant was near me within seconds. I clung to it like it was my lifeline, vomiting up liquid because I hadn't eaten in days and all I had was sips of water whenever we had been lucky enough to stumble upon a river.

"You should get some rest," Tajima said, when I pushed the vase away from me. "Sleep, and then talk. For now don't worry about a thing."

"How can I not worry," I mumbled, staring at his dishevelled appearance. "I—my two older brothers died. Killed near what was supposed to be our _home_. How do I know that the same thing won't happen again?"

"It won't," he said, grabbing my shoulder once more. "It won't. This compound is different. Believe me, Kiyomi. Trust me."

 _I don't_ , I wanted to tell him, because if Tajima were smarter, _better_ , this shouldn't have happened. He was clan head, our father. Didn't that mean something?

"You didn't save Takeshi," I snapped, feeling the tears begin to drip down my face. "And now—and now you didn't save Jin either. Am I next? Or Madara and Izuna? How many more of us are gonna die before—before—" I stopped, shrugging his hand off my shoulder and avoiding his gaze. "I wanna be alone."

Tajima lingered for a moment. I refused to look at him. There was nothing else I had to say.

"Get some rest," he finally said. "I'll have someone take you to your room and give you food."

The door slid shut behind him, the sound deafening. It was only a few moments later before the door slid open once more, revealing a woman I had never seen before.

"Hello, Kiyomi-chan," she greeted, her voice warm, though not in the usual patronising way that women from this world seemed to adopt when speaking to me. "I'm Matsuri. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other from here on out. I'm here to take you to have a bath and eat something before sleeping. Does that sound okay?"

I nodded, barely paying attention to her as she led me out of the room and into another. I knew she was speaking, I could see her mouth moving as she helped me into the bath. There was no energy in me to hear what she had to say, though. It was unimportant.

The bath water was a murky brown when I got out. The grime from nearly three days of travelling across the Fire Country. Three days. Three days ago, Jin had died.

"Are you alright to eat some food now, Kiyomi-chan?" Matsuri asked.

Three days.

"Of course," I replied, forcing my voice to sound semi okay. Whatever that sounded like.

The food that Matsuri gave me tasted like nothing. I hadn't eaten in three days.

 _Don't think about it, just eat, just eat and eat and eat and eat,_ the voice whispered in my head, sending shivers down my spine.

"Are you cold?" Matsuri asked.

"No, I'm fine."

She nodded, though the press of her lips told me she didn't believe me as she escorted me to what she assured me would be my bedroom forever.

Forever.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, you'll be staying here for—" She stopped, as if unsure of what other word to use than _forever_. "Indefinitely," she finally finished. "You'll be staying here indefinitely. That means—"

"I know what it means," I interrupted. "Thank you. I wanna sleep now."

Matsuri didn't leave, though. She stayed at the entrance of my room as I slipped into the futon, her worried eyes gleaming in the dark. I stared at her hands and the way she kept intertwining her fingers, over and over again.

"I"m fine," I said, when she continued to stay. "I just wanna sleep."

For a moment I thought she was going to stand there the entire night. But after a few seconds of loitering, she slid open the door and disappeared.

The futon was comfortable. That wasn't the problem.

It was as if now that I had finally stopped moving, now that I was finally _kind of_ safe — everything that I had succeeded in blocking in the walk to the compound was emerging, slowly and surely.

Flashes of Jin, pleading that I save him — even though I couldn't.

Flashes of that man, clawing at his eyes, probably _wanting_ me to save him — even though I didn't want to.

I closed my eyes and willed them away, forced them.

 _They'll make you stronger,_ the voice whispered in my head, sickly sweet.

But I didn't want to be strong, now. I just wanted to be asleep.

* * *

 **A/N:** it's funny how the 'simplest' chapters give you the most strife. this was one I hadn't pre-written anything because in my outline it was simple as...but? it took ages.

ANYWAY I hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to tell me what you think as per usual. I'm super super excited about the next chapter because some of my fave characters are being introduced so hopefully it should be up soonish (and i've pre-written stuff for it as well)! I'm guessing around the 22nd of April?

thank you for reading!

AND ALSO the wonderful **peccolia** drew the most amazing picture of Kiyomi with a mullet that you can see on my Tumblr! (link in my profile) also if you haven't (you definitely should have) read her amazing OC-insert in the warring states time as well _The Legend of Three Leaves_ , except focusing on the Senju! she's an amazing writer and person, you won't regret it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

When I opened my eyes, for a moment I thought I had been kidnapped, that someone had found Yoshino and I wandering the Fire Country and had taken us.

But it was only an empty room in a compound I didn't know. A new home.

I had no idea how long I had slept. There was a tray of plain rice and water beside my futon, but other than that and the sliver of natural light that seemed to be flitting through the door, I couldn't tell.

My bones cracked when I rose, kicking the sheets off the futon. I noticed that someone had brought clothes for me as well, which were laid out neatly. I recognised it as one of Madara's tops with the Uchiha crest emblazoned on the back and a pair of pants that were presumably old ones of his.

I didn't know if this choice of clothing signified anything.

The door opened, the noise startling me to the point where I fell backwards and spilt the jug of water on the tray.

Madara blinked at me, eyes wide. "I thought you were still sleeping."

I scowled, staring up at him from where I sat flat on my butt. "Just woke up, obviously."

He shifted, as if unsure how to continue, his eyes constantly flickering around my room and then over my body, as if searching it for tangible evidence of something.

"How are you?"

I stared at him. "How _am_ I? How do you think I am?"

"Well, if I knew, then I wouldn't have asked, would I?"

We stared at each other until Madara came to sit beside me, his shoulders hunched.

"I thought you were dead," Madara said, voice flat. I wondered if he had cried — if he had bawled his eyes out, or if, like me, he had held it all in, compressed it so tightly within himself that it threatened to rebound at any moment.

"I thought I was gonna die."

He looked away, staring at the futon. I wanted to reach out and hold him and never let go, and tell him to not become a shinobi. And that we could run away, go somewhere else, live on a farm. Izuna would come, of course. And we could leave this stupid shinobi shit to Tajima and then —

And then maybe Madara wouldn't become the person he seemed destined to become.

But I knew that Madara would never run away. This way of life was engrained so heavily into him because he knew nothing else. He didn't know what it was like to be truly safe, for a war to be so far away from you that all you saw was glimpses through a screen, and even though you felt sad you could never _relate_.

I would never run away, either. It was an odd thing to confess to myself — that if I _could_ run away and live on a farm, away from all this, I wouldn't take the chance. That I would stay.

Here, I could do something. Not for this shitty and stupid world. I wasn't some self-less hero.

I only cared about my remaining family. About Madara and Izuna. I could save them at least, if I stayed.

"You're thinking too hard," Madara said, his eyes now meeting mine.

"There's a lot to think about."

He nodded. "I know."

Had someone told him about Jin? Had Tajima sat him down, informed him that his oldest brother was dead and that now the horrifying responsibility for clan head fell to him?

I closed my eyes, not wanting to meet Madara's too innocent eyes. He was only six. How was it fair?

His hand brushed mine, and there were callouses on his hand because even though he was _only_ six, _only_ six in this world meant that you were already to be trained. That you would soon be on the front lines, thrown into an endless and murderous war.

Madara slipped into my futon, his grip on my hand never releasing. We stayed like that, curled around each other, the darkness enveloping us in a cocoon where nothing was wrong. Where if I opened the door, I would find Takeshi and Jin and even maybe Hana.

I drifted into a restless sleep despite having only just woken up, but there were no vivid dreams like before. When I stirred, the sheets were cold and Madara was gone.

The tray was gone as well, replaced with a new one containing soup and something else. I inhaled it, not bothering to care about how I looked as I forced every morsel of food into me and nothing remained, and the clothes I had slept in were covered in food stains.

That was how Mei found me.

"Oh, Kiyomi-chan," she said, tutting, but it was a half hearted sound. Like Madara, she shifted from foot to foot, as if unsure what to do around me, how to act, what to say.

She looked different, as well. More forcibly put together, as if the simple action of putting clothes on hurt.

"I didn't know you survived," were the only words I could really say, only realising how blunt and dismissive it sounded the moment it left my mouth.

Mei took it in her stride. "Yes, well, I did. Thank Kami for that."

I didn't really think God had anything to do with it, but rather luck. But if it helped her, then I didn't care.

"Why don't we get you properly dressed?" Mei suggested, picking up the clothes that had been on the ground earlier and giving them a disdainful look. "Aren't these Madara-kun's?"

"Yeah."

She frowned at me. "Who put them there?"

When I didn't reply, she sighed.

Her sighs didn't provoke me like they had before. I didn't care if she sighed. She could huff and puff all she liked and it wouldn't change anything.

I didn't even notice her leave the room until I heard the door slide open and Mei entered once more, this time holding a navy blue type of kimono. It probably had some fancy name that she had told me, but I didn't care.

"Let's get you into this, okay?" Mei said, giving me an encouraging smile.

Mei continued to give me directions, with me following along without thought. I felt as if I were waiting for something, for Tajima to come and fetch me and explain everything.

But what was there to explain?

I was introduced to no one that day. The entirety of it was spent with Mei, and I tagged along, helping her wash linen and peel vegetables for a lunch I couldn't eat and sew holes in clothes. Despite how similar it was to the lessons she had taught me in the old compound, there was a distinct difference here.

Everything I was doing was for other people. I wasn't practising sewing patterns and flowers for my own personal gain. I was cleaning and mending stranger's clothes and cooking for them.

There were a few other older women assisting, but none of them ever spoke to me, only stared for the first few moments before looking away when I met their gaze blankly.

By the time I presumed it to be night, I hadn't spoken a word to anyone except the occasional forced one to Mei. This seemed to be enough for her.

She sent me to bed after a long session cleaning dishes and eating a bit of dinner. I hadn't even dined with my family.

Unlike before, sleep didn't come easy. The longer I lay there, the more I could smell smoke, the more I could feel it in my lungs, despite the fact that I had been around a fire today while cooking and hadn't reacted at all. It was the silence, the darkness, that seemed to creep up on me and strangle me.

My ears rang with it all, my lungs straining to have air, and despite having the distinct awareness that I _was_ awake and this was some bizarre panic attack, I couldn't stop it. It was worse than a dream.

When I drifted off, the dreams were so fragmented that I woke up regularly, with flashes of images of Jin and Takeshi and then my friend from my past life, all blurring together to become one indistinct person.

The moment I saw the first flickers of light under the door, I remained still in my futon and denied my body any sleep, purposefully thinking thoughts that sent adrenaline racing through my body.

Madara didn't surprise me like the first morning. Mei returned with fresh clothes and greeted me as normal. The lack of sleep made me want to speak to her less than the day before.

"I thought we could do something different today, Kiyomi-chan," Mei began as we exited my dark room. "You met Matsuri-san, didn't you?"

I forced myself to nod.

"She has children of her own, a girl around your age. I think it would be good if you were to play with her for a bit, don't you?"

Play. How could I possibly _play_ with another girl, braid her hair or whatever it is girls did in this world when they were children? How could I possibly do that when I didn't know how Izuna was, or Yoshino, or even truly Madara. Were they okay? Were they unscathed?

What good would playing with a stupid little girl do?

Mei seemed to sense my foul mood. "She's a lovely girl," she continued, and the use of the word _lovely_ to describe someone made me more resolute to hate the very person.

Either way, after I dined with Mei in a small room, she dragged me into what looked like a luxurious sitting room, with elegant cushions laid out. It was there that Matsuri sat, along with a boy and a girl, finishing breakfast.

"Matsuri-san," Mei greeted and bowed, causing the woman to turn around.

She beamed at both of us. "Mei-san! And Kiyomi-chan. It's wonderful to see you up and about."

Sensing Mei's eyes on me, I gave her what I hoped looked like a shy smile.

Matsuri gestured for the girl and boy to stand up before turning to me. "Kiyomi-chan, this is my son, Ryuu, and my daughter, Haruka." She beamed as she gestured to the two children who stood beside her.

Ryuu gave me a curious yet also disdainful look, the standard look that boys his age gave to girls my age. He looked surly, despite only looking as old as Madara. Everything about him, his cocked hip, his raised eyebrow, gave the distinct impression of unfounded arrogance.

Haruka, meanwhile, was the opposite. She was all soft smiles and kind greetings, the exact epitome of her mother. Where as Ryuu looked like someone was removing his teeth by force, Haruka looked genuinely pleased.

It was hard to dislike someone who gave me such a genuine smile.

"Can I go now, Mum?" Ryuu asked. "I'm busy."

Matsuri looked embarrassed, her eyes flickering back between him and me as if she didn't quite know what to do. Part of me realised that in a sense, I held more power than her. Probably no more power than her husband — or maybe even Ryuu himself, because who knew how sexist this entire clan actually was — but when it came down to her and I, it was me who outranked her.

"It's fine," I said, my voice short. "It was lovely to meet you, Ryuu-kun."

He snorted at my dry tone. "Right. You too."

The moment he was gone, Matsuri quickly turned to me.

"Please forgive him, Kiyomi-chan. He has no sense of manners."

I didn't know what impression I had given her to make her think _I_ had any sense of manners. Her embarrassment was ridiculous. As if I cared what a stupid little eight year old or however old he was boy was going to think or do around me.

"Would you like me to show you around the compound, Kiyomi-chan?" Haruka asked, her tone so polite it almost sounded fake. But her eyes were shining with genuine excitement.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Matsuri flash Haruka an encouraging smile, and Mei send me the same one.

"That would be great," I replied, forcing myself to sound enthusiastic.

Haruka looped her arm through mine and began guiding the way out of the room and down the hallway.

People clearly knew her, from the old to the young, for most — even the sullen looking shinobi — flashed her a smile.

"It's only because of my father," she said as if knowing my exact thoughts. "He's head of this compound."

"They must like you."

Haruka laughed and shook her head. "No, don't be ridiculous," she said, but it wasn't feigned modesty or anything like that, but rather a fact in her mind. "They simply want to be nice to me in the hopes that I'll remember their name and tell my father how great they are."

"That seems sad."

She shrugged, turning into a corridor which was far more crowded than the earlier ones. "I suppose. I'm used to it now, though."

We entered a large room, the largest I had seen in my entire life in this world.

"My friend and I spend a lot of our time here," Haruka explained. "It's sort of a common place, or sorts. It's where a lot of the—" She paused, as if unsure how to word it. "The more _common_ shinobi and people, if you will, eat. But when it isn't meal time, it's open for everyone."

So it was where the peasants of the Uchiha clan ate.

It didn't look too nice. A bunch of benches smushed together into a hall. But there were people mingling all about, most of them older than us. They all stared at me.

"Why are they staring?" I whispered to Haruka as she led me to a stop in the corner of the hall.

She blinked at me. "You're the clan head's daughter."

"Yeah, but, how do they know what I look like? We all look the same. Any random little girl could be the clan head's daughter."

Oddly enough, Haruka flushed.

"What?" I demanded when she didn't look me in the eyes. " _What?_ "

"Well—please take no offence, Kiyomi-chan, I do not know who started this...description. But they described you as the surly four year old who looked—who sort of looked like a boy."

I snorted. "I kind of do. Most children with their hair tied back do."

"That's true," Haruka said, though she didn't sound very sure but rather like she was placating me.

She led me to a corner where another girl sat, the only one in the entire room who looked to be a similar age as us. The girl gasped when she saw us approach.

"Kiyomi-chan, this Maemi-chan. She's around our age, too."

Maemi stood up and flung herself into my arms with great dramatics. "Oh, Kiyo-chan—you don't mind if I call you that, do you? I'm so glad you're finally here. I can't even believe that I'm speaking to _you_ , the clan head's daughter! Well, I mean, it makes sense, of course, but—wow. I'm so excited! We're gonna be the best of friends."

Haruka gave me an apologetic smile as I carefully moved around Maemi's hug.

"There's so few girls our age around! And all the older ones think they're so _cool_ and great," Maemi continued, sighing. "But anyway, sit down, sit down!"

It was odd seeing girls my age and older around, because it made me feel distinctively aware of my looks in a way I hadn't been before. My mullet was gone, at least, but even so my short messy braid seemed far from adequate compared to the way Haruka and Maemi both looked.

Because before, I had been in the company of very few people, kept away from scrutinisation it seemed, whereas they had both been constantly exposed. It _mattered_ how they looked. And it showed.

Maemi seemed hyper aware of every decision she made in regards to how she looked — everything was colour coordinated, there was a necklace resting on her collar bones and a bracelet around her wrist, even though they looked tacky. Both Haruka and Maemi had not a hair out of place. It was pulled back away from their face, but still stylish and neat.

I felt like a peasant compared to them, even though I knew _I_ was supposed to be the 'lady' of the group or whatever.

Their talk was superfluous, yet seemed always calculated to whoever was around. If a shinobi walked by us, it was about how brave they were. If it was an older woman, it was about cooking and cleaning. A younger woman, about fashion or boys.

It made me realise, whether actively or not, how Tajima had kept me away from all this. How he had secluded me.

I didn't know if it was a good or bad thing.

* * *

It felt as if people were slowly and strategically being introduced back into my life. I was never introduced to too many new people, either. Haruka and Maemi would often greet people however there were very little introductions made.

And finally, I saw Izuna.

He squealed with delight when Mei brought him into my room one morning, throwing his little arms around my body and squeezing tight.

"Kiyo-chan, Kiyo-chan, Kiyo-chan!" he repeated, like a mantra, his childish peals of laughter making me smile genuinely for the first time since I had got here.

I expected to spend time with him doing something practical, but instead Mei fetched us parchment paper and ink and we spent the days drawing, Izuna scribbling various random indecipherable things on his paper whereas I usually just watched him.

It was comforting.

Madara, however, I rarely saw. Sometimes I would pass a courtyard and see him training with a random shinobi — not Yoshino. He would glance at me, as if sensing me, before throwing himself back into his training.

And with Tajima, it wasn't until a week of tossing and turning and barely eating and waking up drenched in sweat that he called for me.

To me, it seemed unnecessary — a shinobi came to my door, called me _Kiyomi-hime_ which was absolute bullshit, and then told me they were going to _escort_ me to my father's office _safely_.

Shame they couldn't have escorted me to his office safely after the compound burnt down.

I followed him without complaint, being led to Tajima's _new_ office.

He seemed perfectly at home in it, despite the fact that he couldn't have been there for two weeks. Everything was in place, and he was at ease lounging in the chair behind the desk, smiling at me when I walked through the door.

"How are you?" was his first question, similar to Madara.

And just like before, the question angered me.

"Fine," I replied, sitting opposite him.

Tajima nodded, as if accepting this. "Are you liking the new compound?"

"It's alright."

Another nod.

He didn't say anything else, waiting for me to speak.

What was there to say? Where did I begin?

"I have the Sharingan," I said. It seemed the safest way to start.

There wasn't a shred of surprise on his face. "I presumed."

"But I thought—I don't—did I have it before? I don't understand."

"I don't believe so. At least not that I noticed. You could have unlocked it during Takeshi's death."

I didn't want to ask the next question, but it bubbled within the surface of me, threatening to spill out if I didn't.

"Is it bad? Is it bad that I didn't when Takeshi—" I stopped here, unable to continue but there was no need to.

Tajima gave me a smile. "Different people experience emotions in different ways. It is possible you were too in shock to experience any emotion whatsoever. Very few people truly know how the Sharingan works perfectly."

We both fell silent, Tajima seeming to let me reflect on what he just said. The Sharingan. It seemed so odd that something so essential to our clan — or at least it appeared that way — was still a great unknown in some ways.

"Yoshino-kun informed me that there was a man when he found you," Tajima said, interrupting the silence that I had wanted to last. "Is this true?"

Why was he letting me have the option to deny this? Yoshino was a well respected shinobi around the Uchiha clan, that much was clear and known. I didn't understand why Tajima was letting me call Yoshino a liar, if it was some test of our relationship or something else.

"There was."

A beat of silence.

"I _killed_ someone," I said, swallowing. I felt my throat tighten. "I don't even understand how.

"Genjutsu. You look them in the eye and—"

"I _know_ how it works!" I snapped. "Madara explained it to me but if I never learnt it, how could I use it?"

"Perhaps it is one of the great mysteries of life. Such as you healing Yoshino-kun."

I scowled. "I'm not some—I'm not a prodigy."

"I know you're not," Tajima said, and he looked oddly amused. "If you thought you were a prodigy, if you thought that you killing that man and healing Yoshino-kun had anything to do with talent, you would have stormed in to see me and used it as evidence that you're just as good as Madara, and therefore should be trained just like him."

I wanted to throw something at him at that moment, for it was something to guess at my feelings but it was another entirely to _correctly_ guess at my feelings on such a level.

"That's—I—you know all my emotions now?"

"You're like me. I understand how your mind works."

"I'm not like you," I said, my voice quiet. "I'm not."

Tajima didn't even bother refuting me. He had stated his point, made up his mind, and his words that came from his mind were law in the clan — even the idle comments on how our personalities were similar. If he said so, it was.

"Do you wish to be trained?" Tajima asked. There was nothing idle about his voice this time. It was unusually sombre, void of his manipulations. It was straight and to the point.

"Is this a trick?"

"A question. Do you wish to be trained?"

"You know I do."

He nodded, regarding me. "If you do, you must understand. Training is not some way to cope. It is a way to improve as a shinobi. It is absolutely _nothing_ else. Do you understand? It is like if someone assigns you a mission. It is simply to further the clan, not for you to use as a coping mechanism to avoid whatever it is you are trying to avoid."

"Of course I understand."

"Do you?" he asked, leaning forward. "Do you?"

No. Of course I didn't understand. And I knew that I needed an obsession. I needed something to distract me.

It could be both a way to improve as a shinobi _and_ a distraction.

"Yes. I understand."

* * *

The next month I received no futher information from Tajima about training, despite his question that seemed to imply that I _would_ be trained.

Instead, my days were spent with Maemi and Haruka and then usually, after having dinner with Izuna, we would draw together.

Usually we would sew while we were together, them vigorously at it while gossiping where as I merely watched and sometimes contributed.

Haruka and Maemi reminded me of the stereotypical girls you met in high school. One was over-the top and boy crazy, the other was more neutral and kind and warm. I didn't know where I fitted in. But they seemed to love having me around.

"They are hardly any other girls our age here," Maemi told me one morning. "All the others are a few years older and think they're _so_ much better than us because they have breasts."

" _Maemi_ ," Haruka gasped, looking to me as if expecting that I, too, would be scandalised.

Maemi shrugged. "What? One day you're gonna have them, one day I'm gonna have them! Doesn't seem to me like it matters if I mention it to both of you, seeing as we're all girls here."

I felt Haruka's gaze on me, as if she were waiting for me to jump up and yell at Maemi too.

"Kiyomi-chan doesn't mind!" Maemi said, bumping me with her shoulder.

"I don't," was all I said, and the two girls began to argue about speaking about _breasts_ and whatnot.

Their company was new and different, but I missed someone more grounded. Even though Haruka _was_ grounded, Maemi often dragged her into ridiculous conversations and arguments, so there was always loud proclamations.

I missed Yoshino.

It was an odd thought that flittered through my mind so abruptly that I almost didn't notice it but soon, it was all I could think.

Which was ridiculous. Because before those horrifying three days, sure, we had interacted, but the interactions hadn't been overwhelmingly positive.

Every interaction we had so far was born from necessity and nothing else.

I wanted something _without_ necessity, something idle.

And yet maybe the compound was ridiculously big or maybe he was avoiding me or maybe someone was keeping him away from me, because I never once saw him, not in the entire month.

When I did see him, I quite literally nearly ran into him, and it was only his hand on my shoulder that stopped me from plowing into him, as I had been looking at the ground while walking down the corridor.

"You look better," Yoshino said, his hand still on my shoulder.

I blinked up at him, my surprise fading as I took him in.

 _He_ looked better. I had looked in the mirror this morning and knew that I still looked half dead. Yet he seemed to have taken everything in his stride. His face was smooth, unblemished, and he was barely limping.

"You look good," I said, feeling oddly awkward. "I—you're not even limping that much."

"Thanks to you."

I shook my head. "No. I don't—I don't know what happened there."

Yoshino didn't look the least perturbed by this confession, even though I couldn't stop lingering on it. "Sometimes life throws us miracles. It's rare, but quite frankly I don't care where they come from."

I had nothing else to say, so I simply smiled at his remark. But he stayed there, leaning against the wall. People bustled by, the compound filled with action. Many of them gave us odd looks, but Yoshino still made no move.

"Do you want something else?"

Yoshino jolted, realising he had just been lingering without saying anything. "No. Of course not."

He left, and I cursed myself for being so rude and acting as if I hadn't wanted to talk to him, when I desperately had.

Yet this small interaction seemed to end the long spell of no Yoshino. He often passed, and greeted me. Though I still usually ate with just Mei or Izuna, if the door was ever open and I saw him walk past, I would offer him to eat with us.

He always said no.

When, eventually, a shinobi gave me orders to go to a particular courtyard in the northern part of the compound, I was expecting Tajima there.

Not Yoshino.

He gave me a small smile as I approached him.

"I thought you were training Madara," was the first thing I said when I was in front of him.

Yoshino shrugged, but he was a shitty actor. After spending the first five years of my life attempting to read every single flicker of emotion that passed Tajima's face, I had gotten pretty good at it. And Yoshino was just a stupid pre-teen.

"Why are you training me now?" I demanded, putting my hands on my hips.

"Do you really care?"

" _Yes_."

He gave me a look. "You were begging me to train you before. Do I have to beg for you to _be_ trained now?"

"No, that's not it. I just—it's a genuine question. You should be training Madara."

"Tajima-sama requested this. I simply follow orders."

"Then who's training Madara?"

Yoshino sighed. "Ask your father. Now, are you ready to start or do you have any more questions?"

"I have a _thousand_ questions actually. But just for you, I'll stop."

He rolled his eyes. "Thank you. Now let's get started."

My body thrummed, ready to spend time running around and throwing myself into vigorous exercise in the hopes that, at night, when I lay down to sleep, I wouldn't startle awake from dreams about Jin.

Instead, Yoshino sat down.

"What are you doing?" I asked, incredulous.

He gave me a smug smile. "Meditation. I think out of your mind and your body, it's your mind that needs the most improvement at the moment."

"This is—I don't want to do this."

"I know. So sit down."

I shook my head.

"Meditation is what you need."

"Is there an indirect way of telling me I'm too angry?"

Yoshino shrugged. "Perhaps. But more importantly, it will help with your chakra control immensely. More than you can possibly imagine."

"I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not very good at just sitting still and thinking for ages."

"Oh, I have noticed."

He gestured for me to follow him and I did, until we were outside in my favourite spot underneath the huge oak tree.

"I already explained to you the basics of chakra, so I don't think I need to go over it again. But I want you to understand how important this is, because I can feel you rolling your eyes internally. Your spiritual chakra is just as important as your physical. And meditation improves your use of spiritual chakra. It's _vital_ for using ninjutsu in the future. It's vital for many things."

Yoshino began to go in depth in the ways to meditate, which I already vaguely remembered from my old world when I had attempted meditation to relieve the stress of uni or whatever other minor thing was inconveniencing me.

It hadn't worked then, and I doubted it would work now.

Yet I followed his instructions to find a _safe space_. I closed my eyes, focusing on that same safe space I had when I had somehow healed his leg.

My best friend's bedroom. His laughter.

Yoshino's voice faded into the background just like before, as I pulled up every memory I could even slightly remember of my old best friend, until I almost felt as if I were sitting in his room.

"Feel your chakra," Yoshino said, his voice echoing through the room. "Feel it."

I felt my chakra stirring within my very core of being, an odd feeling.

"Focus on it and keep breathing."

The bedroom I was imagining began to grow dark, the sounds of my best friend's laugh becoming distorted. One moment, everything was light and the next moment, the entire room was shrouded in an odd type of tangible darkness. There _was_ literal dark blobs around the room, with eyes that seemed to stare at me.

I could no longer hear Yoshino's voice.

My heart pounded as the blobs moved around the room, as if examining and scrutinising every part of it, pealing away layer after layer of all the memories that I had summoned to build this image in my mind until there was nothing but raw and pure emotion.

My best friend had died.

The blobs seemed to approach me, wrapping themselves around me until a new image appeared in fragments.

Just like my dreams.

Takeshi, Jin, the best friend. Takeshi, Jin, the best friend. Someone else who looked familiar but I didn't quite recognise. Flashes upon flashes of memories. Of emotions. Of pain and agony.

My eyes snapped open and I jolted so hard my head hit the back of the tree I leaned against. The world spun for a moment, and I could hear nothing but white noise.

"Kiyomi?"

All I could see was Jin, lying there, and Takeshi, and someone else, someone I didn't know but they were dead and I had a feeling like I _should_ know who they were but their face hadn't even been clear.

" _Kiyom_ _i!_ "

When my vision cleared, Yoshino was staring at me, a small glimpse of panic in his eyes.

"What just happened?" he demanded when he saw my attention was on him. "Meditation is supposed to _calm you down_."

"Well maybe I'm not made to be calm!"

He grabbed my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin. "Sit down and relax. You're too worked up."

As if I didn't know that.

Yoshino's harsh grip anchored me, and the images flickering through my head began to slow and then stop completely.

"Maybe meditation isn't for you," Yoshino said, removing his hand from my shoulder once my breath steadied out.

"If it'll help me improve, then I'll do it. I don't care if it's _for me_ or not."

I didn't want to do it again. I didn't want to see that — _those_ blobs. That darkness. Those flickers of images that haunted me every night.

Yoshino seemed to sense this. "We'll leave it there for today then," he said, eyeing me with uncertainty.

Normally I would have complained, but despite the fact that I hadn't done anything physically, my entire body ached with exhaustion.

The entire time we walked back inside, Yoshino continued staring at me.

I was worried what he saw when he looked. If he saw somehow saw inside my thoughts, saw the images of death and despair spiralling through my mind and didn't like what he saw.

We parted ways in the hallway without a word.

* * *

 **A/N:** this chapter is kind of like chapter 6 part 1...i feel like this is definitely a 'two part' thing but i mean, it's still complete in it's own way. but part 2 will come later hahahaha

and speaking of parts, if the entire story were to be told in parts, i feel like this is definitely part 2 of the story. which is exciting! it's a good part in my opinion!

anyway thank you so so much to everyone who reviewed/followed/faved! i appreciate it all and hope you're all doing well even if you're struggling from school/uni/work!


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

 _summer_

The new compound was nothing like the old compound. It was a constant hub of activity and people. My life became filled with every day routine.

Training with Yoshino. Gossiping with Maemi and Haruka. Ignoring Ryuu. Playing with Izuna. Talking with Madara. Ignoring Tajima.

It seemed as if I was finally becoming an official member of the compound. I was introduced to Haruka's father, called Toyozo. He was loud and big and overwhelming, and it was clear that Tajima liked him and Kosuke didn't.

My days spent eating meals with Mei were gone. I no longer ate with her and rarely saw her except for when I played with Izuna and she watched on, smiling. Instead, I ate with what seemed like Tajima's council, consisting of: Kosuke, Yori, Tajima, Toyozo, Matsuri, Haruka, Ryuu, Yoshino, Shin, Satsuki, Madara, Izuna and I.

A lot of so-called _important_ people crowded around table, with Tajima at the head.

The rest of the plebs of the Uchiha clan dined in the big hall, which to me, seemed far more exciting. The talk at meals was stifling, some tension always rising between Kosuke and whoever else. Everyone was his target. Yoshino and Yori sat on either side of him, lips pursed, neither giving away anything.

My fifth birthday came and went. It was no quiet affair. _Everyone_ seemed to wish me a good day as I walked the corridors, everyone knowing my name.

It was disturbing and I didn't like it.

The gifts were worth it, though. Yoshino gave me a set of shuriken and kunai, Madara a book about taijutsu, Izuna a drawing of us outside playing together, Ryuu a piece of grass.

Despite the fact that every stranger in the Uchiha clan seemed intent on wishing me a good day, dinner was spent with just Tajima, Izuna, Madara and I. It was quiet and peaceful and exactly what I needed.

I didn't mind the fact that none of us spoke. It contrasted against the laborious intensity of having strangers talk to me.

Weeks blurring together provided both bliss and also a sense of confusion. One day, it could feel like just week that the old compound burned down and Yoshino and I were trudging through the Fire Country. The next, it could feel like the event had happened years ago, and I was immune to it.

During the day, I was distracted. If it wasn't Maemi and Haruka talking my ear off, it was Yoshino lecturing me on my posture, or Izuna begging me to play with him, or Madara and I engaging in a ruthless intellectual battle where he seemed to want to prove he was better, which was ridiculous because I _knew_ he was better and was making no attempt to disprove this.

It was as if someone had told Madara about my newly acquired Sharingan, and this was a threat to him. I didn't realise just how badly this was until I was watching him and Ryuu spar together in the courtyard one day.

Ryuu was definitely stronger than Madara, but he was at least a year older. There was something less technical about Ryuu as well. It was as if whoever had taught him had sort of told him the basics, then he had figured out the rest himself. Everything Madara knew was textbook taijutsu and ninjutsu, whereas Ryuu's fighting style involved all sorts of odd movements that Madara called _not right._

After Madara had lost nine times in a row, they came over towards me.

"Did you see _that_?" Ryuu asked and they both sat on either side of me, effectively preventing my escape. "Did you see me beat your brother into the ground?"

Madara scowled beside me. "You're older," he said.

"Age is no excuse."

"Well it _is_ , considering you've had one year of extra practise!"

"Should have started training a year earlier, them."

"Do you know how life works? You can't do anything when you're in the womb."

"I wasn't training when I was just born. Do _you_ know how life works? I started training at three. You should've then started training at two."

"I didn't know you existed. If I had, then I would have."

" _Enough_ ," I interrupted before Ryuu could open his mouth again and continue the tirade. "Who cares?"

Madara's scowl grew. "I'm sure you should, considering your goal seems to take over the Uchiha clan."

On the other side of me, Ryuu shifted, moving away and looking into the distance.

"What? Why would I want to take over the Uchiha clan?"

"You're training and you have the Sharingan."

"Ryuu's training and _he_ has the Sharingan. Does that mean he wants to take over the Uchiha clan?"

"Ryuu- _kun_ ," the boy himself said, giving me a nonchalant smile. "And of course I want to take over the Uchiha clan! What kind of nonsense are you spouting?"

Madara crossed his arms and levelled me with a _look_. "See?"

"He's being sarcastic, Madara," I snapped. "He's messing with you."

"I don't care if he's messing with me. It doesn't change my point. First you want to start training, then you go out and get the Sharingan, and now Yoshino-sensei is training you when he should be training _me_."

All three of us fell silent.

"I'm leaving," Ryuu said, standing up and going without another word.

"I can't believe you're jealous of me," I said the moment Ryuu was out of sight. "Can you stop being such a drama queen?"

Madara scoffed. "I know you think you're smarter than me. And maybe you are. You seemed to have some sense of superiority over me, whether it be for intelligence or morality or anything else. But the only thing that you _aren't_ better than me at is fighting. So you're going to take that, too."

"Where did this even come from?"

" _I'm_ going to be clan head. Not you. Everyone whispers about how much you've been improving with Yoshino-sensei and I—"

"It's Kosuke, isn't it?" I interrupted. "He's been having _casual_ conversations in front of you. I'm not improving that much, Madara! And you'll always be better than me. I know that."

He fell silent, basically confirming to me that it was Kosuke that seemed to somehow be putting this idea into his head.

"Kosuke-san," he told me quietly.

I huffed. "He doesn't deserve respect."

"That's not the point."

" _This_ is not the point!"

"You truly are a child sometimes, aren't you?" Madara murmured.

I wanted to hit him. Here he was, calling me a child, when he had just accused me of wanting to take over him or some utter bullshit like that. Accusing _me_ of being a child when he was the one being petty, when he was the one easily being manipulated.

"I'm young," I replied instead, giving him a glare.

"Only when it suits you."

We both glared at each other, neither of us moving or saying anything. I felt as if we both looked exactly the same — narrowed eyes, messy hair, hunched shoulders. A perfect reflection of one another.

But I didn't want that.

"Fine. Kosuke- _san_ ," I mumbled.

Madara frowned at me. "You just that wasn't—"

"I know what I said."

"Well, then—"

"And I think you shouldn't listen to Kosuke-san. I don't wanna be clan head. Ever. I don't know what he's said to you but it's probably wrong."

He scrutinised me for a moment. The expression made him look so much like Tajima that I stared right back.

"Do you promise?" he asked.

I wrinkled my nose. "I mean, yes, of course I promise. You should just believe me anyway. I don't think I need to promise."

"But do you promise?" This time, he held out his hand for me to shake.

"A handshake doesn't make a difference," I said but took his hand anyway.

For a second we battled for dominance, looking at each other and squeezing as hard as we could. Madara's grip became too tight and I wrenched my hand out of his.

"Good," Madara said, getting up and walking away, leaving me sitting there with a bruised hand and ego.

* * *

 _autumn_

"I want _you_ to teach me, Kiyo-chan!"

"Izuna, I'm not even that—"

"I don't care! Teach me, teach me, teach me!"

Izuna and I were sitting in his room, and he had produced a box containing a variety of orange-y leaves that he was thrusting in my face.

His boundless energy wasn't contagious. It was exhausting. And besides I had no doubt that he already knew the leaf technique, so I wasn't sure what game he was playing with me pretending he didn't.

Izuna's entire face lit up when I held the leaf to my forehead and kept it there.

"You're so amazing, Kiyo-chan!"

I rolled my eyes, ruffling his hair which made his grin wider.

"Okay, now draw!" he said, shutting the box and pushing it into the corner of his room.

"I thought you wanted me to teach you?"

He shook his head, and went to the closet where his parchment and ink were stored. "Draw! I wanna draw!"

Part of me wanted to object, because spending time _drawing_ was just ridiculous. But it was something creative, something artistic. Though I knew how to read in this world, reading wasn't something people just did unless it was for something.

Basically, no one had any sense of recreational hobbies except for practical ones, like cooking and sewing. But that wasn't even a hobby.

Izuna drew thick stick figures with an ink brush, squinting hard, tongue poked out, as he drew a set of seven people.

"Who are they?" I asked while I just stuck to drawing a shitty landscape that consisted of a river, trees, the classic corner page sun and V birds.

He beamed at me. "It's us! That's dad, mum, Take-kun, Jin-kun, Madara, you and me!"

I stared blankly at the piece of parchment.

"So you can remember eve—everyone!"

It could've been any seven people. He had drawn me with a slight mullet, Tajima looking sullen, a random generic looking woman, one boy with a scowl, one with a passive smile, one with a wide grin and the smallest stick figure was giving a weird looking thumbs up.

I stared at the figure who was representing Jin, at that wild grin that looked nothing like his actually had, but —

In my head, I could still envision it perfectly.

"This is meant to be happy, Kiyo-chan!" Izuna said, pouting when he saw my sullen expression. "It's happy!"

It _was_ happy. But that was no longer what we were.

I took the parchment from him anyway, giving him a smile. "I'll put this up in my room," I told him.

He stared at me as if this was the most amazing news he had ever heard. "Really?"

"Of course, Izuna. It's beautiful."

It wasn't. It was a shit drawing done by a nearly three year old. But I wanted to encourage something non-violent within Izuna, even though I had yet to see him begin some kind of shinobi training.

I didn't know if that was a deliberate decision on Tajima's part, or if there was something no time or no one to train him. But that was ridiculous. Izuna was the clan head's son. Priority would surely be given to him over some other random Uchiha.

If there was no one to train him, if that was truly the reason, then surely Yoshino would have been asked to train Izuna, and not me.

No matter how hard I tried to force myself to think like Tajima, to try and uncover some reason behind this, I couldn't. It was illogical.

But I was glad for it. It meant that my room slowly began to fill up with endless ink drawings done by Izuna, some of stories I told him in the old compound, and some of me and then the rest of our family. I stuck them into my wall with little metal pins, which I had thought Mei would disapprove of, but she only smiled when she saw them.

"Madara doesn't put mine up!" Izuna told me when he saw my room covered in them.

"I'm sure he has a reason for it. He might just be really busy and hasn't had time."

Izuna frowned, looking unconvinced.

"How about we go find him, then? Drag him away from the training ground and spend some time hanging them up with him?"

This got rid of the frown, but he still looked at me oddly. "I thought—you two aren't talking!"

"No, Izuna, we are," I said, the reply automatic. "We are."

We were talking. It was just usually about nothing, about safer conversations. If I ever saw Kosuke beside him in the courtyard, talking to him, I never asked him about it. And Madara seemed to respect this and therefore didn't bother me with his petty jealous bullshit. One handshake couldn't eliminate _every_ problem.

"Okay," Izuna said, still looking uncertain. "Okay!"

Predictably, Madara was in the courtyard. There was no one beside him, which I took to mean that this was his own personal decision to train, meaning it could be interrupted.

"Madara!" Izuna shouted, bounding up to him and causing everyone in the near vicinity to scowl.

I watched as Madara stopped his shuriken practise and turned to Izuna. Part of me wanted to see their relationship in action, because it was obvious that Izuna absolutely worshipped Madara, but I wasn't sure how either treated each other.

They both began speaking, Madara going onto his knees to be eye level with Izuna and smiling.

He had never looked at me like that.

When they both approached me, Izuna's hand within Madara's, I forced a smile on my face.

"You excited to decorate your room, Madara?" I asked.

He raised his eyebrow at me, as if to say _what do you_ _think?_ "Of course," he said instead.

Naturally, Madara's room was larger than mine and Izuna's combined. His futon even looked more comfy. He went to the closet and pulled out a wooden box that contained all of Izuna's drawings.

I had thought he had been obsessive when it came to drawing me things, but it looked like had drawn _double_ for Madara.

It took the entire afternoon to pin all the drawings into Madara's wall. Izuna chattered away the entire time, rambling on about this and that, sometimes making sense and other times not. He spent a lot of time flattering Madara, as well, complimenting his form in his katas — how did he even know what good form was? — as well as his katon, which was coming along nicely.

By the time we were on the last few drawings, Izuna was yawning, and Madara set up his futon. We both watched our younger brother collapse onto the futon and fall asleep within moments.

"Sometimes I feel he has endless energy, but then this happens," Madara said, but there was no sign of irritation in his voice.

"I'm sure he'll be up in a few minutes, ready to draw you more pictures."

We both exchanged grins before quickly looking away from each other.

"Let's finish these last few," I suggested, not meeting his eyes.

With Izuna snoring softly in the background, we pinned up the last few pictures. Most of Madara's walls were covered in them, and most of the pictures seemed to star just Izuna, Madara and I, all smiling.

"I almost want to sleep now," I groaned, sitting beside Izuna's sleeping form. "I swear, your futon looks way better than mine."

"It probably is," Madara said, sounding annoyingly nonchalant.

Maybe it was because I spent most nights tossing and turning, waking up sweating from nightmares, or maybe because here, surrounded by two ridiculously young boys, I somehow felt safe. Whatever the reason, I crawled next to Izuna, closing my eyes and drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

When I came to and opened my eyes, the room was dark. I was curled around Izuna. When I squinted my eyes, I saw Madara on the other side of Izuna, his eyes closed and his breath heavy.

I closed my eyes and fell back asleep.

* * *

 _winter_

Ryuu was a bursting mess of testosterone despite only being nearly eight. He was arrogant, sexist and full of energy _constantly_. He was also full of shit.

It was funny how I started to spend more time with him than Madara.

Madara was constantly training, throwing himself into things at a rapid pace. According to Ryuu, he was absolutely begging to be taken on missions and being placed on the frontlines.

And so Ryuu, despite being a bursting mess of testosterone and arrogant, sexist and full of shit, became my Madara confidant.

"He's always sucking up to my father," Ryuu told me as I whisked the tea.

I realised after Mei found us in my room together that there was no _acceptable_ way for us to hang out unless I was treating him or some other sexist bullshit.

"You're the clan head's daughter, Kiyomi-chan," Mei had lectured. "You cannot just have boys in your room."

"What if I want to practise my tea ceremony?"

Unfortunately, she hadn't fallen for this. "I can't imagine you wanting to do such a thing. But if you are, leave the door open and make it look convincing. Hopefully I have taught you well enough to simply _pretend_ like you know what you're doing."

I must have, because every person that peered in and saw Ryuu and I sitting around a tatami table, me sitting _seiza_ and pouring tea seemed to smile approvingly.

Ryuu took a sip of his tea and nodded, as if he were an eighty year old tea connoisseur and not a dumb boy.

"Why would he suck up to Toyozo-san?" I asked. "No offence, but our father is clan head."

"Yeah, but _my_ father is responsible for delegating missions." He sounded proud for using that word and said it with great deliberation. "And Madara really wants to prove himself or some crap."

I gave him a sweet smile. "Don't swear in front of me. I'm the clan head's daughter."

"Yeah, maybe, but you act like an adult peasant, so whatever."

Haruka didn't like me spending time with Ryuu.

"I do not see why you should," Haruka said to me. We were all outside, and Haruka was braiding Maemi's hair.

"I already told you why we actually talk. It's not that I actually like him or want to speak to him, it's just I need to know how Madara's going."

This only made Haruka's frown deepen. "I think you should just ask Madara-kun himself how he's going."

"I know what you think."

"Well, then—" She stopped, clearly wanting to say something but not doing so because I had no doubt it would be seen as _disrespectful_.

Fortunately, Maemi saved the awkwardness by talking about a completely different awkward matter.

"Of course Kiyo-chan wants to talk to Ryuu-kun! He's a talented shinobi. And he's—well, y'know." Maemi began to blush.

Both Haruka and I immediately scowled, though I had a feeling hers was simply because Ryuu was her brother, whereas I was wondering how messed up this world was for a seven year old to be commenting on how cute a boy was.

Though I supposed girls did marry young here. I had a feeling that Maemi was encouraged to think like this, especially about Ryuu or Madara. They were considered _higher_ than her, and she should aspire for higher.

"And Yoshino-kun as well! I wish I was you, Kiyo-chan."

This only made my distaste grow. "He's old," I said, my voice short.

Maemi scoffed. "His maturity adds to how handsome he is!"

"What Maemi-chan means, I think, is that Yoshino-kun is a very talented shinobi," Haruka interrupted smoothly.

"A very talented _attractive_ shinobi."

I wrinkled my nose.

"I would've _loved_ to spend three whole days roaming the Fire Country with Yoshino-kun."

" _Maemi!_ " Haruka snapped, this time genuinely flustered.

Maemi fell silent. I knew that they were both looking at me, scrutinising my reaction. I pretended to stare at the falling leaves.

"I'm sorry, Kiyomi," Maemi said. "I—that was insensitive."

"Don't mention that again," I said, turning to face her. "Don't bring that up again."

"Oh. I—of course."

Maemi's hands fluttered around Haruka's hair, as if unsure whether to resume braiding her hair or to change the subject or to apologise once more.

I didn't have it in me to ease the awkwardness.

* * *

 _spring_

Maemi's birthday was a vastly different affair from mine. She turned eight, and seemed oddly proud of this, as this was some grand age.

The people walking down the corridors didn't stop to congratulate her, as they did me. She didn't get a special dinner, or a hoard of gifts. In fact, her only gifts were from Haruka and I, which made me wonder about her parents.

"She does not talk about them," Haruka whispered as we sat in the mess hall, waiting for Maemi to get breakfast. We had already eaten ours. "I do not know where they are."

I nodded, not having time to say anything else as Maemi returned with a bland looking breakfast. Staring at it, I wished I had taken her to our breakfast, with its variety of soups and fish and rice.

"So," Haruka began after Maemi finished her breakfast, smiling brightly. "What do you want to do today?"

Maemi returned the smile. "Just hang out, of course! We can sit in the courtyard seeing as the weather is _finally_ nice." She sighed in a dramatic manner. "I can't stand the cold. Everything is just so... _sad_."

Outside, the leaves were growing back on the trees, the sun shining in the sky without being obstructed by grey clouds. Everyone was gathered in the courtyard, some older girls lounging around and gossiping and a few people training. I saw Madara in the distance going through katas while someone watched on.

As usual, Maemi began the discussion.

"I heard Renjiro-san is getting engaged," she said, which caused Haruka to straighten up.

"Who is Renjiro?" I asked, frowning.

Maemi tutted. "We talked about him just last week! He's one of the top shinobi of the Uchiha clan. And it's Renjiro- _san_. Come on, Kiyo-chan."

Haruka sent Maemi the look which said _shut up you're speaking to the clan head's daughter_.

"Oh. Yeah, him. I remember now. How do you even remember all these names?"

"I know everyone in the Uchiha clan," Maemi bragged. "Or at least, everyone who _matters_."

"Right," I said, not really believing her. I thought of the least important Uchiha I had met. Saori came to mind instantly — she had been so boring and predictable that no one could really know her, not to mention I didn't even know if she was alive. "Do you know Saori-san?"

She gasped at me. "Of _course_ I do. Do you think I'm an imbecile? She's engaged to wed one of the Elders!"

I wrinkled my nose. "One of the Elders? But she's so young?"

"Do you honestly not know anything about your own clan? Aren't you meant to be the clan head's _daughter_?" She shook her head at me, ignoring the look from Haruka. "You don't have to be _old_ to be an Elder. You just have to be incredibly wise."

I had never really heard of the Elders before, which struck me as odd, now that I thought about it. In fact, Tajima had done little to explain the politics of the Uchiha clan with me, and hadn't bothered to have Mei explain them to me, either. If Maemi, a girl who Haruka claimed _wasn't_ that 'well bred' or whatever, knew all this stuff, why didn't I?

"So Ta—my father doesn't have all the power?" I asked, trying to sound as if I knew this and was just confirming it.

Once more, Maemi sent me a look of pure astonishment. "I just—are you just messing with me, or do you seriously not know anything about this?"

"I don't know anything about this," I confessed.

"Well—well okay. Tajima-sama technically makes the decisions, but usually they have to go through the Elders first. They're like the middle ground, so if Tajima-sama _does_ go insane or whatever and make some really bad decisions, the Elders can shut him down."

"I've never seen them, though," I pointed out. "If they were so important, then wouldn't they be by his side? And doesn't my father have his own council? Isn't that what they do?"

It was Haruka who spoke this time. "Tajima-sama is sort of _unusual_ for a clan head," she told me, and I had a feeling unusual was a polite way of putting it. "Usually the Elders are always around the clan head. Usually, in fact, the Uchiha are all in one place, but Tajima-sama deemed that unsafe, for if someone were to attack, we would all be put in danger. And it is the Elders who usually guard the Uchiha library and tablet, but for whatever reason, your father did not want to stay there."

Tajima wasn't an idiot. It was unsafe for a whole bunch of people to be gathered in one place.

But that wasn't the point. Maemi — who seemed to be a lower tier Uchiha or whatever — knew about all this and I didn't. And it made me realise how little about this world I had actually been taught.

"How do you know all this?" I asked, my face flushing as Haruka and Maemi exchanged looks.

"People talk. I just picked up bits and pieces from listening in," Maemi said. "Haruka was taught all that stuff, though."

I scowled.

"I'm sure there was a reason you weren't told, though!" Maemi added quickly.

There was a reason. Tajima was a piece of shit who seemed to like keeping me in the dark in regards to every single thing that mattered. But of course I didn't say this to them. I had already confessed enough, that I didn't know something that seemed to be common knowledge. I refused to elaborate and let them know how much I hated Tajima, their beloved clan head.

He was _unusual._ That didn't excuse him from not telling me important things.

* * *

 _summer_

The entire compound seemed to fold in on itself. Everyone who walked the corridors was subdued, as if they felt the grief personally, as if it rested on their shoulders and they were burdened by it.

They weren't. They didn't care. They didn't know.

Haruka's first words to me had never been truer. These people just wanted to climb the hierarchy that was the Uchiha clan, and if that meant being utterly disrespectful and faking grief, then they would. And they would do it without shame.

Tajima's door to his office was closed. He wasn't at breakfast.

Even Kosuke was silent as he ate his food, not meeting anyone's eyes.

I stayed in my room, only leaving to train with Yoshino where we ran through various katas which mostly involved him twisting my arms and legs until they hurt. He didn't go quite as hard.

That night, I forced myself to stay awake. I didn't want the brutal invasion of nightmares that would inevitably happen. I didn't want to wake up screaming, drenched in sweat.

But I did anyway. I didn't remember much — just the usual horrifying combination of Jin and Takeshi dying, my old friend and black blobs suffocating me until I woke up, gasping for breath, a scream halfway out of my throat.

My room was pitch black. Outside, I heard the usual familiar noises of shinobi pacing back and forth, the occasional hushed conversation.

Everything was safe.

Everything was okay.

It had been okay for awhile. It would be okay for awhile longer.

But I lay there, shivering in my futon despite it being early summer, unable to sleep, unable to believe that this world could ever truly be safe.

* * *

 _autumn_

"I think it's time," Yoshino told me when I came out to greet him at the usual time.

I frowned, because that could mean several things. "For?"

"For a ninjutsu. I've been mostly teaching you taijutsu and just how to not be an idiot, but I think it's time to move on from that."

Ignoring the part about _not being an idiot_ , I grinned at him. "I definitely think it's time to move on."

"Now I'm going to assume that your affinity is fire—"

"Wait, what? What if it isn't?"

Yoshino shrugged. "Then I suppose you'll suffer. I don't think I've met an Uchiha who doesn't have fire as their main affinity."

"Isn't there a way to check, though?" I asked.

"Maybe there is, somewhere out there. I wouldn't be surprised if the Nara had invented one, but obviously they wouldn't share that around."

"The Nara?" I repeated, because that sounded _very_ familiar.

He gave me a look. "Do you want to learn ninjutsu, or ask stupid questions?"

"Both! I'm curious. Isn't curiosity a good thing? Shouldn't children be _encouraged_ to be curious?"

"Not children like you, that's for sure." He gave me another look, as if trying to figure out whether I did want to know about some random clan or breathe fire. "Well, the Nara clan aren't exactly competition for the Uchiha clan. They're a great deal smaller, but that's not how they've survived. They deal in knowledge. Besides, they don't exactly attempt to gain power or control within the Fire Country like the Uchiha or Senju do."

Senju. Now _that_ was definitely familiar. They were the rivals of the Uchiha. Yet I was sure I hadn't heard their name brought up yet, despite the fact that they were — from what I could remember — the main antagonist in the eyes of the Uchiha.

"The Senju," I began to say and Yoshino let out a sigh. " _What?_ I need to know these things!"

"This is the _last_ thing I'm telling you, and then we're moving on, okay?" He waited until I nodded before continuing. "The Senju are the other big clan within the Fire Country. They have large numbers, just like us, and they're powerful. Tajima-sama and their leader, _Butsuma_ , have always had an intense rivalry. Most of the time, though, the clan in favour with the daimyo is the one who is considered to have the most power at that moment in time."

I thought I remembered Jin mentioning something about the daimyo and Tajima awhile back.

"That's us, right?"

Yoshino laughed. "What? No. Tajima-sama hates the daimyo. He considers it a waste of time. That's what he tells my father, at least."

"So the Uchiha and Senju aren't really fighting at the moment?" I asked.

"I wouldn't say that. Let's just say if I bumped into a Senju, we'd fight to the death, no questions asked. That's just how it is."

"But that's—that's just dumb!" I snapped. Yoshino shrugged when I glared at him. " _That's just how it is_. That's called being dumb. That's how wars just keep going!"

"Well, I'm glad we have _you_ , the esteemed clan head's daughter, who seems to understand so easily how wars can be ended and will definitely end them herself."

My hands clenched and I forced myself to not hit Yoshino. Not only because he would easily annihilate me, but also because it was easy to think like him. It was easy to think _that's how it is_ and never think further. And I had feeling that he did think further than that, that he didn't necessarily agree with that.

"Fine," I said, watching Yoshino's face flicker with surprise. "Let's just get on with it."

"Alright then." He looked at me, uncertainty all over his stupid acne nearly teenager-y face. I still couldn't believe he was thirteen.

I watched as he went through the hand seals, his larger hands easily managing to flick through the combination. When I tried, it was as if my fingers were steel rods trying to bend and flex.

"Stop overthinking and try again, this time slower. Copy me. Tiger, Ram, Monkey, Boar, Horse, Tiger."

As he said each word, I attempted to fumble through the hand seals.

"I thought this would be the easy part," I snapped, shaking out my hands.

Yoshino rolled his eyes. "Of course you did. None of it's the _easy_ part."

It took me the entire afternoon to get them anywhere near smooth, and even then each transition was shaky and awkward.

"Don't stress it," Yoshino told me when I lay against the tree, exhausted despite the fact that the only part of my body I had moved were my hands. "This is a difficult jutsu, especially for someone so young. Honestly, in my opinion, it shouldn't be taught until people are around ten or so. And it's usually—" He paused. "It's usually the indicator of whether someone is ready to go on the front lines."

" _What?_ "

He shrugged. "I don't agree with it. But that's often how people decide."

"So if I master this, I'll be sent out into the war?"

"Only if you want. Only if you think you're ready."

I shook my head. "Only when I'm _ready?_ I'm never gonna be ready. Ever."

He didn't look surprised. "No one's every ready. Let me reword that. Only if you think you're as prepared as you could be."

But standing there, every joint in my hands throbbing with exertion, I didn't even see that there would be a point where I would be as _prepared as I could be_. Prepared to kill. Or prepared to die.

"Don't stress it," Yoshino said once again. "It doesn't matter."

We both knew it _did_ matter. He was training me for this explicit reason. I couldn't just back out.

"Can we try it one more time?" I asked. "Please?"

After a lengthy sigh, Yoshino held up his hands. "Okay. Watch me do it, and then try again."

* * *

 _winter_

Izuna and I spent a lot of time outside braiding grass. It calmed my head and my heartbeat, and Izuna always seemed to know whenever he passed me in the hallway if I needed to spend a bit of time outside, simply doing _something_ with my hands. Even when it was so cold we had to wear multiple layers, we were often outside.

His fingers were too chubby to properly do much, but he still gave it his best go. And somehow, his always ended up looking better than mine.

"I know how to pick the grass!" he said, beaming.

It was odd, how different it was to spend time with Madara and Izuna. With Madara, it was as if we were both constantly on the verge of a disagreement, or a fight, or something. I felt uneasy around him, like I was crossing a field riddled with landmines and one wrong step could blow me to pieces.

But with Izuna, it was just like lazing around on a nice sunny day.

The issue with spending time outside, though, was that in this compound, _most_ kids were outside. And I hated their judging and prying stares, their leers, their loud shouts.

They never really bothered us except for the odd looks. Until one day when we found some flowers on the edge of the compound by the gates despite the freezing weather, picked them, went to our usual spot and made flower crowns with the grass and the flowers, and I placed one atop Izuna's head.

"Wow, Izuna- _hime_ , you look so great!" a boy said who stood behind Izuna, towering over him, sneering.

"Excuse me?" I snapped, but he ignored me, leaning down to just above Izuna's height.

"That type of stuff is for _girls_ , Izuna-hime. Are you a girl?"

Izuna frowned and shook his head. "No, I'm a boy!"

"Well then you better start acting like it. Stand up!"

I watched as Izuna slowly began to rise, looking uncertain.

"Now you're gonna climb that tree over there with _just_ your feet. If you can't do that, well, there's gonna be trouble."

Before Izuna could make his way over to the tree and actually _try_ it, I grabbed his arm. "That's enough," I told the boy, who looked around eight.

He barely glanced my way. "Shut up and don't interrupt. _I'm_ talking."

"Who do you think you are?"

"Who do you think _you_ are? Izuna-hime's boyfriend?"

I laughed, which caused the boy to stop and look at me, startled by my reaction. "No, actually. I'm his _sister_."

For a moment he stared, confused, before the realisation dawned on him. But he didn't stop.

"It looks like the clan head's little princess wishes she was born a little prince. You think you can take us?"

The _us_ turned out to be two more identical looking eight year olds. They all were sneering, they all had lost a few of their front teeth and they looked _ridiculous_.

Despite the fact that I knew there was a courtyard filled with kids watching, and that I shouldn't do this — he was just an ignorant kid, that was all, there was nothing more to it —

He had insulted Izuna.

He could go fuck himself.

When my foot hit _just_ below his waist, he screamed in pain and hit the ground.

"Kiyo-chan," Izuna mumbled beside me, tugging on my hand, but I ignored him.

"You know what? I'm still a little _princess_ and I can kick your ass just fine! You're pathetic. A pathetic loser who's jealous because he thinks his only talent is _strength_ and _fighting_ but it looks like you're shit at that!"

The two other boys stared at me and looked back down at their leader, as if they couldn't think for themselves what to do.

" _Go!_ " I screamed, and the leader limped away, the two boys following a moment later.

I knew that the entire courtyard was staring at me. It was deathly silent.

Izuna tugged on my hand. "Kiyo-chan, let's go inside."

"Okay," was all I could say, but we didn't get that far before Yoshino intercepted us.

"What's this?" Yoshino demanded. "Why is everyone gathered here?"

"How should I know?"

He glared at me, before turning his attention to Izuna and kneeling down before him. "Are you alright, Izuna-kun? Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Izuna shook his head, looking at his feet. "I dunno why all these people are here."

Yoshino's presence had made most of them leave. I didn't know what they found intimidating about him — he had _acne_ , not grizzly battle scars. At least, none that were visible.

I certainly hoped he didn't have any battle scars.

"Why don't you go find Mei-san and have her clean you up?" Yoshino suggested, giving Izuna a gentle push in the direction of the compound. "Go on."

When he was safely inside, the glare was back.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I snapped. "Not everything is my fault."

He rolled his eyes. "All the kids were looking at _you_. And I'm pretty sure I heard someone complain about being kicked in the balls."

"The balls?" I repeated innocently. "What are they?"

"For fu—don't play pretend."

"I don't understand. What balls?"

"You're a piece of shit."

"I dunno what that means either. What's s—shit?"

Yoshino made an exasperated noise. "Just go inside. I don't understand why you're out here in the first place. You're going to catch a cold."

When we were inside and away from everyone's stares, he turned to me once again.

" _What?_ " I snapped.

"You shouldn't lose your temper like that," he said. "Everyone's watching you."

"Maybe that's _why_ I'm losing my temper."

He sighed, which was the usual noise he made around me. Usually I didn't care, but — that idiot's words were still rolling around in my head, thunking against my skull insistently.

"Oh, I get it. I'm so annoying and _hard_ to deal with. I should just be a silly little girl and sit around sewing and learn how to keep my mouth shut and bow prettily and do all that stupid stuff!"

Yoshino grabbed my arm before I could storm off, his grip tight. "Don't you ever think you're better than people who choose to do that," he said, his voice so harsh that he sounded almost like Kosuke. "In fact, most of the time they don't have a choice. You're privileged. So start admitting that and grow up. You think you're so mature in some ways, and maybe you are, but in most you're the most childish person I've ever met."

"Well you're just like your father!" I screamed the first words that came to my mind.

He let go of my arm instantly, stepping away from me. He left without a word.

I watched him go, ignoring the tears that were beginning to rush to my eyes. I didn't feel like crying because of what he said to me — it was what I said to him.

That night, I searched all through the compound for him. I banged on the door I knew to be a main room for Kosuke's family until Kosuke himself opening it.

"What do you want?" he snapped when he saw it was me.

"Have you seen Yoshino-sensei?" I asked.

At the word _sensei_ , he snarled. "No, I haven't. He's a grown man. He can be where he likes."

Before I could say anything and inform him that his son was only a boy going through puberty, he slammed the door.

More guilt crept into me at the fact that I had compared Yoshino to such a horrible person.

Eventually, I found him. Yoshino sat outside, despite the fact that the wind was slamming against windows and doors alike. His hair was all matted to his face from the breeze, yet he didn't seem to notice.

I braved the cold, sliding open the screen door and quickly shutting it. "If you're out here because of what I said—I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I was angry."

"You're always angry," Yoshino replied. He still didn't look at me. "No, it's not about that."

"Then...what's the brooding about? I get that you're turning into a _man_ or whatever everyone's saying that so you're all moody, but—" I stopped, feeling my face begin to heat up. "I mean, it's just—you can tell me. I mean, if you want. Of course if you don't, that's fine too."

He laughed, the sound weak compared to the gushes of wind. "You're terrible at this."

"At least I'm trying."

"I suppose."

I sat beside him, wrapping my clothes tight around me. "I—it is about what I said. About how you're like Kosuke."

"I _am_ his son."

I grabbed his wrist, tugging on it until he looked down at me. "You're not like him. I know what I said but I think I just wanted to see you just as upset as I was. Because I'm dumb and cruel. But you're nothing like him. You're so different. I don't even think you could be like him if you tried."

A small smile appeared on Yoshino's face. "You're the most obstinate child I've ever met."

"What's that got to do with this? I'm trying to be—I don't know, encouraging!"

"I know, I know. Relax."

"Okay, well then if you know...can we _please_ go inside?"

He laughed at my shivering and hunched over body, pulling me up with him and going inside, away from the frigid wind. Inside, Yoshino looked as if he hadn't just spent an hour or so outside brooding. He had a small smile on his face, which was the most that I could usually get out of him on a good day.

"You still didn't tell me what's wrong," I pointed out.

Yoshino shrugged. "Some things I don't think you should know. It wouldn't do any good. You'd just dwell on them and try and do something and make it worse."

I scowled. "Would not."

"You would and you know it."

Once again, I grabbed his wrist. "Just—does _someone_ know? Is someone helping?"

He pursed his lips. "Sort of."

" _Sort of?_ What does that even mean?"

"It means sort of. It means someone is sort of helping."

I shook his wrist to make sure he was listening. "Well if you want someone to actually help, I'm here. I'd help, no matter what it was."

"That's what I'm worried about."

He removed my hand from his wrist, and ruffled my already wind swept hair.

"If you ever need help with it, then, you can tell me," I said, dodging another attempt to mess up my hair. " _Seriously_ , Yoshino! I'm being serious!"

He grinned. "I know."

I didn't think he did. It surprised me, how much I liked Yoshino. Maybe it was because he was older and always treated me as an equal, unless I didn't deserve it. Or because he was just _him_.

I just knew that I wanted to see him happy and safe and _not_ being forced to do things by Kosuke. Because even though I had no idea what Kosuke could be planning, or even if he was planning anything, if it involved Yoshino —

There'd be hell to pay.

* * *

 **A/N:** well this is a long one, but I hope you enjoy it even if it's in a little bit of a different format! i might take a tiny hiatus of like a month or so because i have exams now but we'll see i guess

thank you to everyone who reviewed/followed/faved, I appreciate it so much!


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

Normally when I woke up, there was nothing but a comforting almost silence in my room. There would be the soft footsteps of shinobi roaming the halls outside, the louder footsteps of children and the assertive ones of adults.

This morning, however, there was nothing. I woke up to the sounds of rustling leaves from outside but no footsteps. It had me up and dressed within record time, something Mei would have no doubted complimented on had she been there.

I grabbed a kunai from the pouch next to my bed and slowly opened my door and peered out. Nothing. No one.

Yoshino had held off on teaching me how to accurately sense chakra. I had dismissed it as well.

Now all I wanted to be able to do was sense my family and know that they were _there._

Where were the guards?

The dining room where I usually ate was at the far end of the compound, and by the time I reached the door my breath was coming out in sharp gasps, my sweaty palm pushing the door aside.

" _Surprise!_ "

I forced the kunai behind my back with a fumbling hand. The dining room was crowded with people I did recognise but mostly people I didn't. Before I could even speak, Haruka stepped forward and pulled me into a quick hug.

"Happy birthday, Kiyomi-chan," she whispered in my ear, giving me a tight squeeze before letting go.

And then everyone was all around me, Izuna jumping up and down beside me, Yoshino standing in the back, Madara and Ryuu pretending to act cool and nonchalant, and then a bunch of other people I didn't know giving me a nod as if we were on close terms.

My heart was still pounding. I couldn't speak as I tried to regulate my breathing, forced myself not to sound like I was wheezing. My hand hung at my side, the kunai within it.

"What's with the kunai?" Madara asked when Ryuu and him were beside me.

"Oh, I dunno I guess I just—I dunno, I thought I had training," I said, fumbling over my answer and my voice.

"But you're not even dressed for—"

Yoshino interrupted Madara's comment with a hand on his shoulder. "In the best of situations, you would be wearing your armour when fighting. But sometimes you won't be. And training prepares you for real fights, so sometimes we don't wear armour."

Madara's lip twitched as if he were holding back a nasty scowl. "I'm pretty sure that—"

Haruka interrupted him this time by pulling me into another hug. Over her shoulder, Madara gave me an exasperated look.

"Alright, let her go, Haruka. You don't _always_ need to hug people. I swear, it's a woman thing," Ryuu said.

Ryuu's sexist remark distracted me for a moment from my original anxiety, but I didn't have it in me to interrupt as I usually did. He was turning thirteen this year, and from what I had seen from the other stupid teenagers around the compound, he was bad but far better than most.

When everyone except Yoshino and I flocked to the food table, I turned to him with a glower.

"Who thought this was a good idea?" I snapped.

"Does it matter?"

" _Yes_. So then I can yell at them."

He smiled. "Just take it for what it is and enjoy it."

 _I thought everyone was dead and I was about to die,_ I wanted to scream at him. But I had a feeling he already knew this.

"It's not even special," I mumbled.

"What is?"

"Turning _eight_. It's nothing. Just another number."

He frowned. "That's every birthday."

I wanted to tell him that it wasn't like that when you turned eighteen, because then you officially could go out to a bar and drink until the sun rose without a fake ID until I realised — wrong world.

My day seemed to shrink on me even more, becoming an oppressive force that made me want to go into my room and never come out. Birthdays in my old world meant...cake. Or something. Cake and party and fun. But after this I knew that I would be out in a field, sweating away as I ran through katas and practised my chakra control. I knew that I was lucky that Madara was here at all, for he could be on a mission or even out in the war. I knew that there was a reason why Tajima wasn't here, and it wasn't good.

"Just enjoy it," Yoshino repeated.

There was nothing to enjoy here. Some days were like that. All I wanted to do was protest, march into the Fire Country and hold up a sign telling people they were idiots. I wanted to be back in the safety of my old world, doing something mundane like shaving my legs and drinking lemonade. Instead I was stuck here.

Today was just one of those days.

* * *

Summer meant sweaty skin and smelly clothes and too many people outside when the weather was just right and then too many people inside when it was too hot. It also meant that Madara and Ryuu started chaos in the courtyard training together, as they always did.

But summer was almost over before I noticed that it was usually just Ryuu with the other boys his age, and Madara was absent.

"Where is he?" I demanded when I realised, hurrying up to Ryuu.

The other boys started jeering.

"Shut up," I snapped. "And while you're at it, go away."

"Wow, she's feisty," one of them said.

Ryuu grinned at him. "Yeah, well, you should see—"

Before he could inform them just what they could see, I grabbed his upper arm and dragged him away, ignoring his friends tittering away like little girls.

"We were just joking," he said, rolling his eyes. "Don't get all offended."

"I don't care about your jokes. Where's Madara? Why isn't he with you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. He likes to train by himself now, outside of the compound."

"Is that even _allowed_?"

"Well, it's not like your father's here to tell him off."

Tajima had been gone for nearly a whole month, apparently hunting the Kenta clan. I didn't know why he _personally_ had to go and do it himself when he had a whole clan of people to do it for him.

"Is he actually training?" I asked.

Ryuu's mouth dropped open. "How do you even know about that?"

"What? About what? What do you mean?"

"You're only _eight_. I mean, I knew about it when I was eight but I'm a man. You're—"

I interrupted him before he could finish whatever nonsense he was spouting. "First, you're not a man. Second, I didn't mean to imply that he was meeting up with someone. I meant—I don't know, but are you sure he's training?"

Ryuu looked like he was about to argue against me not calling him a man but I glared. "He takes his weapons and everything, so I'd say so."

Madara leaving the compound wasn't a good sign. I didn't know what it exactly _meant_ , only that he had clearly been doing it for the entire time Tajima was on his mission. And if he hadn't properly told Ryuu what he was doing, then that was worse.

It was difficult to catch Madara leaving. I would see him at breakfast, and then in the courtyard for a little and then he was gone, just like that. Ryuu and the other boys didn't seem to care, but I did.

The one day I did see Madara leave, I followed him, watching him exit through the main entrance after a short word with the shinobi standing there. The shinobi stopped me three steps before the door.

"What are you doing?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. He was one of the older ones — probably hadn't been good enough to make it that far as a shinobi, so he was stuck guarding during the day when there were plenty of people around.

"My brother and I are heading out today," I said as confidently as I could.

He scrutinised me. "Madara-sama goes out alone."

"Yes, well, usually. But today I'm going with him."

The guard continued to look at me, as if I were a stain on the wall with a particularly interesting shape that he couldn't quite work out.

"No, I don't think so. You'd get hurt."

I took a deep breath. My anger bubbled within me, ready to be unleashed onto this stupid guard. "Thank you. You know, you're so right. I'm so thankful that you're here, looking out for me and my wellbeing."

"What are you on about?"

" _Thank_ you for doing your job. You're truly amazing."

I didn't bother trying again by myself. Instead, I hunted Ryuu down again, who was outside training as always. I waited until he was without his little band of snickering idiots until I approached him.

"I need you to come with me," I told Ryuu as he relentlessly threw kunai at a target. They all thunked around the centre in a neat circle. "The guards won't let me out. They think I'll get hurt."

Ryuu went up to the target and took all the kunai out, placing them back in his pouch without looking back at me. "You could get hurt."

"I could get hurt staying in the compound. I could get hurt _anywhere_. That's life. Besides, if you come with me, I probably won't."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"Maybe I don't _care_ what you want."

When all of the kunai were returned to their usual spot, Ryuu sighed and turned to me. "Look, whatever he's doing, he clearly doesn't want people to follow him. So why can't you just respect that?"

"And if he's doing something bad?" I persisted. "Something that would endanger the whole clan?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Do you know that he's doing something like that?"

"Of course not, but—"

"He probably just wants a breather. Everyone's demanding things from him now. He's getting stronger and everyone knows it. He just needs a break."

It was an odd thing for Ryuu to notice or even consider. That shinobi _did_ need a break. I highly doubted Madara was helping himself to a break. I didn't think that idiot knew the concept of relaxing.

"If he wanted a break, he could go into his room. He could relax in the compound. Tell me, when you want a break, do you decide to leave the compound? Do you decide to go to a place where you have constantly be _on_ guard?"

Ryuu shook his head at me. "You're not gonna give this up, are you?"

"Tell me it's not suspicious, then!"

"I'm not gonna fuel your constant need to be right all the time. I'll go with you, okay? But we're only searching _once_. If we don't find him, that's that."

Apparently when you weren't the clan head's son, there was more to simply leaving the compound than I thought. Ryuu and I had to hunt down his father, who was in charge in Tajima's absence.

Ryuu's father was the complete opposite of Tajima. It was as if Toyozo was simply brute strength and a loud personality with very little technical thought. He seemed to be constantly shouting, his voice always booming.

"I thought I could take Kiyomi out and see the village by the river," Ryuu said as we stood in front of Tajima's desk, where Toyozo sat. He looked out of place behind it.

Toyozo narrowed his eyes at Ryuu. "The village by the river?" he repeated.

"Yeah, because I thought that Kiyomi never gets out of the compound. She's been feeling all cooped up, and so have I without any missions. I could also check out the inn there, see if they have any reports about the Kenta clan while we're there?"

Without warning, Toyozo began to laugh. "I'm kidding, son! Of course you can go! What kind of father would I be to refuse? Spend the entire day. Have some fun!"

I flinched, startled by the outburst. Ryuu began chuckling along, though it sounded forced. Toyozo grabbed a nearby piece of parchment and began to scribble on it, handing it to us.

"This should give you no trouble with the guards."

"Thank you, Toyozo-san," I said, forcing a smile on my face as I bowed slightly. Ryuu took the piece of parchment and stuffed it in his pocket.

He waved his hand in front of his face, shaking his hand. "No need to bow, Kiyomi-chan! You're allowed to have fun, you know."

When we were half way down the hallway, I turned to Ryuu and shook my head in disbelief.

"He's scary," I whispered.

Ryuu gave me an incredulous look. " _My_ father's scary? What about yours?"

"Tajima isn't scary. Why did your father laugh? And tell us to have fun? What does that mean?"

"That he's happy and wants us to have fun? Anyway, shut up. Stop acting suspicious and go get your stuff and meet me at the entrance."

I didn't exactly have any _stuff_ , at least not the stuff Ryuu was referring to. I didn't even have any armour, just simple training clothes. But I had kunai and shuriken, and a kodachi that Yoshino had given me to replace my old one.

When I met Ryuu by the entrance, he wasn't even wearing armour. He looked nonchalant, as if he was about to go for a stroll in some friendly, heavily guarded zone, instead of unknown territory.

The guard looked at the piece of paper that Ryuu handed him for two seconds before waving us out.

And then I was outside for the first time _properly_. Outside of the compound.

"Stop gaping and start walking," Ryuu snapped, pushing me forward.

It hit me then that anyone could attack us right now. There could be shinobi waiting in the bushes, ready to ambush and destroy us.

"Madara most likely will be awhile out," Ryuu said as we walked. "Uchiha shinobi still patrol in this area. They would spot him if he trained here."

"How do you know they haven't spotted him?"

"I asked them awhile ago." He rolled his eyes at my look. "I wanted to make sure he wasn't doing anything stupid. That's why I asked."

The forest surrounding the compound was dense. Even with the hot weather being in full force, the trees were so dense and close together that it provided coolness.

I didn't remember much of me arriving at this compound. Just pain and stumbling around and Yoshino. Maybe if I had stopped for a split second, or it had been a different scenario, I would have noticed how beautiful the forest was. How pristine the trees were.

"You can always tell when there's a compound around," Ryuu said as we walked. "Any other forest would be a battle zone. Trees burnt, scratched, pulled out. No matter how much genjutsu you use to hide it, it's obvious. Some people purposefully fight around the compound to make it less suspicious."

"That's horrible," I mumbled, touching a tree trunk.

Ryuu snorted. "It's just a forest."

Neither of us spoke for the next few hours as we trudged through the forest. It seemed endless, and every sound made me flinch and tense up. My adrenaline was constant.

"Isn't there an easier way?" I muttered when we were resting by a river.

"Sure. Learn how to sense chakra on an insane level and boom. You'll find Madara."

I scowled. "But don't we have sensor-nin?"

"Do you wanna ask them to find your brother, then? I'm sure they could. But either way you can't just ask a sensor-nin to do your bidding. Even when you're the clan head's daughter."

Of course I wouldn't ask them. I had a feeling that Madara wasn't just _training_. He could train at the compound. There was no reason to disappear so much, and especially while Tajima was away.

We arrived back in time for dinner, though Madara wasn't there. I only saw him later, eating by himself in his room when I walked past before bed. He looked oddly relaxed and at ease, a minuscule smile on his face as he ate his meal.

When I banged on Ryuu's door the next morning, he groaned.

" _Again_?"

"What, you think I'm going to be satisfied after one day?"

"I hoped you would be."

I waited, tapping my foot impatiently as he gathered his weapons at a ridiculously slow pace.

The day passed the same as the next. Ryuu insisted that we were going a different route and exploring a different portion of the forest. I didn't believe him. Everything looked the same, and it made me realise how silly I was actually being.

Madara could probably travel at triple my pace. He knew exactly where he was going and I had nothing to go off, so I was just charging through a forest with a stupid pre-pubescent teenager, hoping for the best.

Ryuu didn't say anything when we arrived back at the compound once more. I hurried back to my room, stripping my sweaty and dirty clothes off.

I was being paranoid. I knew it. I knew I was, but still, it was _Madara_. He wasn't the type of person to just innocently head out every single day, outside somewhere safe.

As I usually did when my nerves were on edge, I ate dinner with Izuna and Mei, tucked away in Izuna's little room. It was easy to zone out with Mei's constant calm voice and Izuna's chipper one. They rarely brought me into the conversation, just sending me smiles and occasionally asking a question that I stammered a reply to.

If Madara wasn't doing anything suspicious, what would it be? What would the not suspicious option be? He was way too young to be meeting up with some woman. Or man. But either way, that _couldn't_ be the option.

"—the village?"

Tajima would be back soon, surely. Then I wouldn't have to worry. He would sort it out.

"Kiyo-chan?"

I blinked, forcing a smile on my face. "Sorry, what?"

Izuna returned my smile, though his was vibrant and earnest. "I asked how the village by the river was! I heard you and Ryuu-kun went there."

"Oh, it was great," I said, wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. "It was good to get out of the compound."

"Maybe I could come next time! Are you going tomorrow?"

I opened my mouth to snap out a no but quickly shut it and gave a desperate look to Mei. She only raised her eyebrow at me.

"I don't think it would be safe for you, but I can ask Toyozo-san?"

Izuna beamed at me. "That's okay! As long as you try, Kiyo-chan."

I didn't go to Toyozo after dinner. I had no clue where Izuna was in his training. It had been around a year ago when those boys had been rude to Izuna, calling him a princess. The incident hadn't seemed to affect him that much, but I didn't know. It could have.

He was never in the courtyard that Ryuu and Madara frequented, but there were other smaller ones he could be trained in. I never saw him bruised or wounded or anything, but I knew that wasn't an indication of anything. He was six. It was highly likely that some ridiculously young teenager was teaching him how to kill people, and that therefore Toyozo would be happy to let Izuna accompany us.

"This is the last day," I told Ryuu the next morning. "After this, I'll stop."

He scrutinised me. " _Really?_ "

"I'll stop bothering _you_. That's what I meant."

The guard glanced at the piece of paper for a few seconds, as usual, and waved us through. I grabbed it from Ryuu before he could put it in his pocket and slipped it into my own.

"I might need it," I said when he frowned at me.

Ryuu led us another different way. "We'll go south, this time. Maybe he wanted to go back near your old compound."

I highly doubted that. Our old compound was tucked further away near the border to the River Country. It _was_ south, but this wasn't the way to our old compound.

Why would he want to go to a place of chaos and death that would be burnt to the ground, anyway?

"Maybe we should split up," I said as we rested for a short meal at around noon. "It just feels—this feels futile."

Ryuu shook his head. "No. You're not fully trained. You're barely even trained. I can't do that."

"Ryuu, I know my way back. And I've got weapons. You're not even in full armour! You clearly don't think we're going to be attacked for whatever reason. And the fact that Toyozo let us out despite the fact that apparently, the feud between the Kenta clan and us is severe enough for my father to go out? Obviously there's something I'm missing, but I don't care what it is because you seem to think it's relatively safe."

"Kami, do you _ever_ shut up?" Ryuu snapped, rubbing his temple. "It's just sentence after sentence after sentence with you."

"We're splitting up," I said firmly. "Got it?"

He shook his head and groaned. "You're gonna get me fucking killed, I swear. If you die, I am completely dead too. I hope you know that."

"Don't be so dramatic. I'm not going to die. We'll meet outside the compound, near the back."

I started walking away from him, refusing to look back even when I heard him muttering about insane women. When I looked behind me and saw nothing but dense trees, panic rippled through me.

I was alone. I was outside the compound. I could be attacked.

No. No, that was ridiculous. There was a reason why Yoshino had trained me. I didn't need to be afraid. Ryuu was outside with no armour. Toyozo sent us out here knowing it was safe. Sure, he didn't know exactly where we were going. But that had to count for something. It _had_ to.

The forest began to slowly clear up, the trees becoming less dense, the foliage opening up so more of the sun came through. Sweat began to build up on my forehead.

It parted suddenly, leaving me nearly tripping as the soil gave way to harder earth. There was a huge canyon-like structure. The cliff curved all away around, the forest behind it. I could see for miles and miles to the south, where another forest lay, stretching further and further.

And along the curve of the cliff, there were two silhouettes. I darted behind a tree, adrenaline pumping through me. What if they were part of the Kenta clan?

Yet I didn't think shinobi would just sit on the edge of a cliff, chatting.

I went back into the forest, hurrying around the edge until I drew closer and closer to the two figures. The voices started becoming more audible, the high pitched tones of two boys ringing out in the air, loud and happy.

When I peered out, there was no doubt who it was. The huge mane of hair on the back of one of the boys gave it away.

"Madara?"

Both of them jolted, standing up at once. The boy next to him looked to be around a similar age, with an atrocious bob cut. Madara stormed over to me.

"What are you _doing_ here?" he snapped. "You're not even—why are you outside of the compound?"

"Ryuu and I have been looking for you." I shook my arm out of his grip. "Who is that?"

I already knew who he was. Not necessarily his name, but I remembered vaguely enough that this was Madara's childhood friend — if you could call it that — who ended up being a Senju. And also his rival.

It was easy to forget that this was all some show that I had been shoved into. That there were things that were supposed to happen and were happening, and others that I had a feeling were only occurring because I was here.

Before Madara could reply, the boy hurried up to me and took my hand, squeezing it. "I'm so glad to meet you!" he said, his voice thick with a rare kind of honest enthusiasm. "I'm—"

"No one," Madara interrupted. "He's no one."

"Don't interrupt people," I snapped before turning back to the boy. "Sorry about him."

The boy smiled. "That's okay! He's always grumpy. I'm used to it by now."

 _By now_. I couldn't help but wince, knowing that whatever this was, it had been going on for awhile. Too long.

And we had already moved compounds too many times, there was only so much moving and hiding and training we could do, only so many times it could happen and this —

This was something that could destroy the momentary peace we had at our current compound.

Madara dragged me away from the boy. "You shouldn't be outside the compound," he glowered.

" _You_ were going outside the compound by yourself before you were ten! And besides, I went with Ryuu. We just split up."

He let go of me and looked around, eyes wide, as if he was waiting for Ryuu to jump out.

"The fact that you're so on edge means you _know_ what you're doing is wrong. You have no idea who he is. He could be an enemy trying to kill you."

Madara shook his head. "We purposely didn't tell each other our clan. I know that he could be an enemy."

"That's stupid."

He said nothing. I glanced back to where the boy still stood, pretending not to eavesdrop and failing. More memories came pouring into me. This boy from the Senju clan was _good_. Everything about him screaming good, from his sheepish smile to calm demeanour to _everything_. He wanted peace.

"Let's go back," I said, touching his shoulder as gently as I could.

Madara shook his head. "No. You go back. I'm staying out here." He paused for a moment, glancing between the boy and me. "But I'll see you for dinner. And—" He lowered his voice. "Do _not_ tell anyone about this. I'm serious."

"I know, I know. Just be careful, okay?"

I nodded and turned to the boy, giving him a forced smile. "Have a good day."

"You too!" he said, grinning and waving at me with way too much enthusiasm.

My brain felt heavy and clouded as I navigated my way back to the compound. This was a Senju. I didn't know his name, but he was important. There were events that were meant to happen, that were _still_ happening even with me here. Would I have wanted to change something like that, though? Madara meeting someone important, someone who was influential and powerful and kind?

That boy hadn't changed anything, though. Madara had still ended up how he had. His kindness hadn't been enough. But it had done _something_. This meeting, Madara meeting with this boy. I didn't remember what happened after, if they were caught or simply stopped seeing each other. It was good, though. It was good for Madara, to sit and discuss peace and happiness with someone else. And if I told someone higher up like Toyozo about this, they would end it.

It was still light when I got back to the compound, so I sat down in the spot outside the compound and waited for Ryuu.

He emerged from the trees only awhile later, looking bored and angry.

"Did you find him?" he asked me, flopping down on the ground. "I went all the way back to your old compound. He wasn't there."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "No, I didn't. But you don't have to come out again. I appreciate it."

Ryuu narrowed his eyes at me. "Are you lying?"

"What? _No_. I told you that I'd leave you alone after today no matter what."

"Yeah, I know, but I didn't think you would unless we found him. Are you gonna keep looking?"

I shook my head, and Ryuu sat up, staring at me incredulously.

"You're lying," he hissed. "You found him. Why aren't you telling me?"

I scowled. "I'm not lying! I've already been annoying enough to you, is it that hard to believe that I'm going to stop?"

" _Yes_. That's besides the point, anyway. You're lying. What's he up to?"

For a moment, I considered not telling him. I didn't know how much I could trust Ryuu. Sure, he did this for me. But he was also an arrogant and easily influenced teenage boy.

"He was with someone," I said finally, lowering my voice to a whisper, keenly aware of the Uchiha patrols. Ryuu began to wrinkle his nose in disgust. "Not like that! Just...someone. A boy his age. They didn't exchange clan names, from what Madara told me. But I think he could be an enemy."

Ryuu sighed, leaning back against the fence of the compound. "He's a fucking idiot."

"I know. But they're friends. It seems innocent, Ryuu."

"Let's just get some dinner. Kami, he's a moron." He paused, turning to me. "Are you gonna tell someone?"

" _No_. And you can't either, okay? I trust you. So please don't—just don't."

Ryuu nodded. "I won't. It's your business. Well, and Madara's. But personally I'd tell someone if I were you. Okay?"

"Alright. Okay. Let's just go inside."

* * *

The next few days were spent on edge. I trained with Yoshino, throwing myself into the new training that involved using the Sharingan for the first time. Madara was in the courtyard for most of the day, before disappearing after lunch and returning before dinner.

It was an improvement. That was what I had to tell myself.

The nightmares came in full force, though, for some reason I couldn't grasp. Whether it was because I had decided to step outside the compound, and spent a little while by myself out there, when anyone could attack me, or something else.

They left me gasping for breath when I woke up, staring around my room and waiting for the shadow-y figures that haunted my dreams to appear in my own room. It was almost worse during the day, though. The prickly voice that occasionally whispered at the back of my mind seemed to be back, making snide comments every time I did something.

It was easy to ignore most of the time. But when I was in the middle of training, or getting frustrated at Izuna's new found insistence on dragging both Madara and I into his room to play with him, it snuck through, sounding violently loud despite only being a whisper at the back of my mind.

"I haven't been sleeping well," I said to Yoshino after one training session with the Sharingan that left my eyes burning. We were both lying on a stretch of grass, me panting slightly, whereas he was unfazed. "Do you ever have really violent nightmares?"

Yoshino shrugged. "Who doesn't?" he said, voice dry. "I try and exhaust myself so I don't dream."

"I don't think that really works for me. If I'm not training during the day, I'm running around the courtyard with Izuna and Madara after dinner. You'd think that would exhaust me enough, wouldn't it?"

"I'm sure some medic-nin could give you something to knock you out, if you really needed it."

I shook my head. "I don't want to take away a medic-nin's time when they could be helping someone who _really_ needed it."

"A tired soldier is a dead soldier," Yoshino said, sitting up. "So, if it gets any worse, I'd say you _really_ need it."

"I'm not even a soldier," I protested. "I'm—I don't even go on missions."

"Is that something you want to do, then? Go on missions? Perform the greatest katon known to mankind and be approved for them?"

"I don't think I'd ever get to that point. And I—" I stopped, about to say _yes_. Maybe a distraction would be good.

But I didn't know if I was ready for that. To willingly say I was ready to die and kill for the Uchiha clan.

" _Kiyomi!_ "

I stood up at once, my hand reaching for the kunai pouch on my thigh before I realised it was Ryuu running towards me, shouting.

"What is it?" I demanded. "Don't tell me that you told—"

"Tajima-sama's back," Ryuu interrupted, glancing between Yoshino and I. "He got back awhile ago, but he was in the healing room. He's out now, and he's asking for you."

"Asking for me?" I repeated, worry washing over me before I could stop it. "Okay, let's go."

Yoshino placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow for training, Kiyomi. Remember what I said."

My conversation with Yoshino was long gone from my mind as I hurried towards the entrance to the corridor with Ryuu. The corridor was alive with people, more than I had ever seen before. Injured shinobi were slumped in the corridor, and various guards were hurrying about.

"Shit," I whispered, staring at the carnage before me.

"Tajima-sama's in his office," Ryuu said.

It was hard to walk through, with all the limbs everywhere from people leaning heavily against the wall, some on the ground whimpering. The entire corridor smelt like blood and sweat and dirt.

I went into Tajima's office without knocking, sliding the door open quickly to escape the stench. I halted when I saw Madara and Izuna already sitting there, Izuna with his face bent down. But what surprised me more was that he was wearing _armour_.

They all were.

Madara looked at me, anger on his face and I took a step back instantly.

He hadn't looked at me like that in awhile.

"Kiyomi," Tajima greeted, calm as always. "Sit down."

Izuna wouldn't meet my eyes. I didn't want to meet Madara's. I sat down next to Izuna and stared at my hands.

"Do you know why you're here?" Tajima asked.

His eyes weren't angry. They were disappointed. I could decipher that much of his expression, but I couldn't pinpoint the reason.

"No," I mumbled, looking back at my hands.

"You came across Madara with another boy a few days ago, did you not?"

My head whipped up without me meaning it to. "What?"

"You came across Madara with another boy—"

"Why does that matter?"

"What matters is that your brother was meeting up with a dangerous individual. You saw this, _witnessed it_ , and told no one. Is that true?"

"I don't understand, you were fighting the Kenta clan and he's not a dangerous—"

"The Kenta clan is irrelevant. The people out there aren't wounded from them. They're wounded from the Senju," Tajima said, his words laced with a very delicate kind of venom. "Because _someone else_ found it necessary to tell me what Madara was up to. And it was a good thing they did, because the Senju were going to kill Madara at his next little meeting."

My mind immediately flickered to Ryuu and I wanted to kill him. He had _promised_ and had led me into Tajima's office as if he had done nothing wrong.

 _You should kill him,_ the voice whispered and I forced it away.

"I didn't—I didn't know. I just—"

Tajima quelled my fumbling with a look. "It is a good thing that Izuna saw it, and was there."

My brain stopped.

Izuna.

Little Izuna.

In armour. Out there _alone._ And ratting Madara out?

"These sort of things _cannot_ happen. It is very fortunate that Izuna witnessed it and reported to Toyozo-san, who got in contact with me. We were just in time to interfere with the Senju, and your brother was spared. In the future, Kiyomi, I hope you're smarter."

He looked at all of us for a second before shaking his head. "You're all dismissed."

Izuna got up immediately, leaving the room, his tiny feet making little noises as he left. Madara followed him, storming out and shutting the door with a loud bang.

I looked at Tajima incredulously. "Did you seriously just bring me in here _with them_ to chastise me? You couldn't have done that when it was just me?"

Tajima gave me a bored look. "Did you not hear me say you're dismissed? Get out."

I flinched at his words, harsher than normal, his gaze boring into me as if he didn't care what I did. My body felt too tight, too oppressive as I got up.

"You know," I snapped, turning back to him. "You know, the reason why I didn't tell anyone is because I knew this would happen. You'd storm in and try to kill a perfectly nice friend of Madara's. I didn't _know_ that there was someone else there watching them! Do you ever think about this whole feud, and how it's some kind of messed up cycle that should end? Does _that_ ever occur to you?"

Tajima stood up. "When I want war advice, Kiyomi, I go to my advisors. _Not_ my eight year old daughter. Get out."

I slammed his door so hard the screen broke and walked away, nearly tripping over the various legs that were sprawled out in the hallway.

All these people injured. That was what the Senju had done.

 _That's why we kill them_ , the voice informed me. _Because this is what they do_.

"Kiyomi."

A hand grabbed me and pulled me into an empty room. Madara gave me an apologetic look.

"If you're about to say you're angry at me when I did _nothing_ wrong, I swear—"

"Thank you," he interrupted. "I'm not angry at you. I'm angry. Not at you."

I bit my lip, stopping my tirade and sighing.

"You should have told someone. I could have died if Izuna hadn't. But—" Madara stopped. "You kept your promise. You listened to me."

"Did you know?" I asked. "That he was a Senju?"

Madara shook his head. "I thought—I don't know what I thought. But it was wrong. He was the enemy. I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"Wait, what?" I stared at him, and he stared back, deadly calm. "No, but—he's nice. He's your friend."

"He's a Senju."

"That doesn't just mean that he's _bad_ , Madara." I waited for him to agree, but he simply stared at me. "What, you think he's bad now?"

He grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the screen door, opening it slightly. The stench came back at once, the metallic smell of blood and dirt filling my nose. I stepped away and out of his grip.

" _They_ did that," he whispered, voice harsh. "The Senju did that, Kiyomi. He is a Senju. His younger brother tried to kill Izuna."

"But Izuna probably tried to hurt the brother! It's a cycle, Madara, don't you see? And you and him, you could've broken it. That's why I didn't tell! You could have broken this vicious cycle, ended a war—"

" _Look at them!_ " Madara shouted, forcing me to the doorway once more. "All these people. Our clan. Our family. The Senju did _this_."

I wrenched out of his grip once more. "And I'm sure their compound looks exactly the same!"

"How can you not be angry?"

 _He's right. You should be angry. You should be agreeing with him, taking revenge._

Madara shook his head. "Well, I'm angry. And I want revenge. Father and I are leaving tomorrow to go after the Senju."

"Tomorrow?" I whispered. "Madara, but, this is just—what about the Kenta clan?"

"Father nearly eradicated them all. We have a different target this time."

I took a step back from him. "You shouldn't go. Madara, this is how it continues. You could end it. You could talk to Tajima, he'll _listen_ to you."

"I'm leaving tomorrow with Father. It's definite. I don't need your support for this. I don't need you to try and explain things to me and act like you're so wise. Because you're not. You've never been out there. You haven't seen what it's like. What _they're_ like."

Madara stared out into the corridor, his hand tense against the door.

"Maybe you should. You should go out there and see what kind of people they are."

I thought of the boy with the atrocious bob cut and his bright smile and friendly wave.

"Maybe then," Madara hissed, "you'd understand. And you would want revenge. You would see someone nearly cut Izuna down, and you'd want revenge. Cut down your friends and family, and you'd want revenge."

He left the room, leaving the door wide open so I'd see a group of shinobi, one grasping his stomach to try and stop a deep cut from bleeding everywhere, another lying unconscious, unmoving.

* * *

 **A/N:** well it's been awhile! I don't wanna count the months but yeah. It's been awhile.

I'm super sorry for the delay but I am back and experiencing some lengthy holidays (probably said that last time lol) but I'm hoping to smash out a fair few chapters of this story because I'm super excited for the future chapters!

thank you so so much to everyone who's followed/faved/reviewed and once again, I'm so sorry for the delay!


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

"I want to fight," I said to Yoshino without stopping the stream of shuriken leaving my hands to thunk against the target. "I want to complete missions."

My back was to him. I couldn't see his reaction. Part of me didn't want to see his instant reaction, whether it was disappointment or eagerness or...something else. Worry. Concern.

I doubted that would be the look on his face.

When I turned around after having thrown all the shuriken, his face was carefully blank.

"Why?" he asked. I watched him walk to take the shuriken out of the wooden target, his hands effortlessly removing them without a single nick. No matter what, I always seemed to cut my hands when I removed them from the target.

"Why not?" I countered.

Yoshino sighed. "Can I have a mature reply, please?"

I took the shuriken from his hands one at a time, repeating the mindless flow that hit somewhat near the centre of the target.

"I think I'm ready. Or as a ready as I'll ever be."

"Is this because Madara's been gone a month?"

Without thinking, I paused in taking the next shuriken from his hands. Yoshino looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"No," I said shortly. "No, that's not why. I just think it's time. I'm nearly ten and Madara was around that age when he went on missions. Maybe even younger."

Yoshino didn't say anything until I had finished the next round of shuriken.

"I don't think you're ready," he said. I opened my mouth to object but he gave me a _shut up Kiyomi_ look. "Soon. But not now. Okay?"

 _Soon_ felt like years and years away. All around me people seemed to be preparing to fight, preparing for war. It was as if people took the Senju far more seriously than the Kenta clan.

I didn't care about the Senju clan. If anything, I didn't even want the Uchiha to hunt them. But that was just the vicious and ridiculous cycle that they were stuck in. The Kenta clan, however, _they_ were different. Whenever I thought of them, the voice in the back of my head roared with rage, and my heart would sound like a war drum begging me to pick up a sword and fight.

Watching everyone around me fight was inspiration, though. Even my own insanely young brother.

Izuna trained in the small secluded area between the west side of the compound and the fence. It wasn't even a courtyard. Whenever I watched Izuna, his trainer would have his back to me as he led Izuna through a series of rapid moves, forming a kata. I recognised enough of the motions and remembered Yoshino's training lectures to know it was to improve stealth and mobility.

It looked ridiculous. His body so small, his cheeks so chubby. He was covered in baby fat, his cheeks a rosy red. Whenever he parted his lips, you could see that he was missing a few teeth.

And at dinner, he would smile brightly at me, revealing the gaps in his teeth, his tongue slightly poking through them.

Watching Izuna was like seeing some horrifying dystopian film, where children were trained to become ruthless killers despite the fact that they should be running around playing stupid games and learning their times tables.

Then there were the shinobi who were so scary and ruthless, every move they perform and practise precise and efficient. Kosuke was like that, whenever I would find a rare corner to peek and watch him train. He would do examples, which seemed more like punishments and showing off his power.

It was easy to see where Yoshino got his talent from.

Ryuu was my favourite to watch, though. His eclectic mish-mash style that never made sense worked wonders on the rigidly trained shinobi Kosuke produced. He always seemed to be having fun, never taking anything seriously.

He was also the best to talk to. Maemi and Haruka were good to fuel simple _social_ discussions, but Ryuu continued to provide endless information with the only consequence that he usually made fun of me for _not_ knowing whatever he was telling me.

"I trained at another compound," he explained to me when I asked about his weird style. "And then I moved to a new trainer, and then another one, and then my father taught me. I dunno, I guess I just thought it made sense to do what they _all_ said. Take a bit of this and that. If this and that is great, then this and that together would be brilliant, right?"

"I don't think that's how it works," I said, pouring him a cup of tea. As usual, our discussions took place in a perfectly normal setting of me practising a tea ceremony with a boy. "And what other compound?"

Ryuu drained the tea even though it was scalding hot. "Kisho-san's compound. I wasn't trained directly _by_ him, though. But still some damn good shinobi."

"Who?"

"Kisho-san. He's head of the other compound."

I groaned because _of course_ there were more stupid Uchiha to deal with.

"Yeah, that's how I feel too," Ryuu said, leaning back into the pillows. "He's a piece of shit. Or at least that's what my father says. He seems okay when I see him, but whenever I say that to my father he cracks it."

"Tajima's never mentioned him."

Ryuu shrugged. "Maybe he's irrelevant, then."

"Yeah, well, I guess. You're usually wrong."

"Maybe. But I trust my father's opinion. If he doesn't like Kisho-san, then I presume he's done some bad things."

I rolled my eyes, because what constituted as _bad things_ in this world were usually dumb. "Like what? Did Toyozo-san ever give examples?"

"I mean, not really. Although I do know he cheated on his wife and with a whore, got her pregnant, and then brought the child into his compound as if nothing was wrong. And I guess it's just the fact that he's really ambitious. He always has ideas for the clan."

"Isn't that kind of good?"

Ryuu shrugged. "Look, I dunno. I'm just repeating to you what other people have told me. People thought he would challenge Tajima-sama to be clan head."

I frowned. "So he's disloyal, then? Why doesn't someone do something about it?"

"They probably will. I mean—don't freak out about this, but usually if someone looks like they're about to do something... _rash_ , and they're an asset to the clan, they marry them or their children to someone important. Gives them a bigger role. It doesn't usually happen to people like Kisho-san, though, because most people would be satisfied with the power he has. It's more the purely strong shinobi who want the power they don't have."

"So you mean I could marry someone? Like that? I thought—" I stopped because I didn't know what I thought.

Haruka and Maemi often talk about marriage. I didn't contribute to the conversations, though.

"I mean, yeah. You're the clan head's daughter. They marry you, that's an instant connection to Tajima-sama. It's all about connections. If you don't make something for yourself they'll make something for you."

"But surely there's women who don't marry in the clan?"

Ryuu snorted. "Of course there is. But that's because they're only way to power is to either become a medic-nin or a shinobi. But you came out of the womb with power."

Had I? It didn't feel like it. Maybe people gave me a slight incline of their head when I walked through the corridor and called me Kiyomi- _hime_ , which was disgusting in my opinion. But that was forced respect. I hadn't earned it. I didn't deserve it. So did I really have it, then?

"So I'll have to marry?"

"I'm not a fortune teller," Ryuu drawled.

I punched his shoulder but he didn't even react, instead just sprawling until he was lying completely on the floor and pillows.

"Well?" I prompted.

"Most likely, I guess."

"But not for me to gain power? For other people to gain power through me?"

Ryuu rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear me? You came out of the womb with power."

"No, I didn't. If I told you to go outside the compound and find someone and kill them, would you?" Before he could answer, I interrupted him. "No, you wouldn't. If Tajima did, though, you would. You wouldn't question it. But you'd question me. Same with the guards. If I told them—"

"You're _nine_ ," Ryuu interjected. "Of course no one would listen to you! You're nine years old, what do you know about anything?"

I scowled. "What do _you_ know about anything?"

We both glared at each other, neither of us refuting the other. If I were to be honest with Ryuu, though, and I never would be, I'd tell him that he did actually know things. And more importantly, he told me these things. He wasn't like Tajima and Madara, who refused to tell me in some twisted way to have all the authority with them, to keep me in the dark and inferior. Or Yoshino, who kept things wrapped up inside of him so tightly that he couldn't move.

"How come you never go on missions?" I asked as a way to change the subject away from both of us being idiots. "I swear Madara goes on a million more than you."

"Well, my last few missions didn't exactly go too well," he said, shrugging as if it was no big deal. "I mean, no one died or anything. I'm too _loud_ and _brash_ apparently. I have no rhythm to the way I work."

I frowned. "Who told you that?"

"Kosuke-san did. One of them was with him and he cracked it at me. I kind of fucked up, just a little bit. We were trying to scout out information in a village and I was being too _obvious_ in front of this girl." He grinned at me. "She was _beautiful_ , though. It was definitely worth it."

His response was so ridiculous that I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm surprised he didn't kill you right then and there."

Ryuu shrugged. "Nah. That would start something."

Isn't that what Kosuke wanted, though? To start something? I didn't want to say that to Ryuu. As much as he told me, and as much as I trusted his words, I still didn't truly understand the dynamics of the Uchiha clan. I didn't know if Ryuu and his parents liked Kosuke, or if they respected him to the point where they would trust him to become clan head.

It was easy to see why Yoshino was so disdainful of his own family.

* * *

"Kumiko-chan told me that she didn't like him. _That's_ why I'm so confused. I think it's a bit rude to tell me that you're not interested in him and then just flirt with him in the courtyard for everyone to see! _Everyone_ knows I'm interested. That's just a bit embarrassing."

Haruka smiled and took Maemi's hand. "I am sure that no one was thinking like that."

"Oh, they definitely were," Maemi said, pouting. "I know they were. I swear they were gossiping right in front of me when we were washing the clothes the other day."

I felt Haruka turn to me, pleading with her eyes for me to say something comforting. But I had been zoning out throughout the entire lunch, too exhausted from this morning's training session to contribute and listen to the conversation.

It didn't make it better that we were in the mess hall, where everyone else was having a loud conversation and shouting over each other. Haruka's back was rigid beside me, her shoulders tense. Maemi was slouched, half-lying on the bench.

"You don't need him anyway," I said. "There's so many other people here. _Nice_ people."

Maemi shook her head. "No, Daisuke-kun _is_ nice. He's busy, Kiyo. He's important, too, everyone is saying he's going to be one of the best shinobi."

I poked at the bland lump of what seemed to be rice and fish in front of me with a chopstick.

"I'll get over it. Kumiko-chan is _disloyal,_ though, and trust me I will never talk to her again. But anyway, enough about me! Kiyo, how's everything with you going? You're always so busy and we never get a chance to catch up."

"I'm pretty boring," I said, shrugging, not liking both Haruka and Maemi eagerly glancing my way for gossip. "I haven't really done anything interesting lately."

Maemi pouted. "C'mon, Kiyo! _Anything_. Surely there's something interesting!"

There were many interesting things, but none that I particularly wanted to reveal to either of them. It was difficult to include them in what I was talking about. Maybe that was how Maemi felt whenever she brought up all the people who I never seemed to know and remember.

"Do you know Yori-san?" I asked, remembering something that I could possibly include them in.

Maemi nodded, but it wasn't her response I was interested in. She probably only knew _of_ Yori, not little details about her. Haruka would, though. She was regularly in the same company with Yori when they sewed together.

"She keeps watching me train with Yoshino," I said, watching Haruka out of the corner of my eye. "I don't know why, though. I mean, what reason does she have to watch me?"

Haruka shrugged, though the movement was very ladylike with her dainty shoulders. "She might not be watching you. She could just be sitting near where you are training?"

I shook my head. "No way. She's watching me. She pretends like she's sewing but she's not."

Yori's eyes were always on me through every kata, every failed katon, every kunai throw. Even though I couldn't see the expression, I could feel the disapproval.

Whenever I came in and stared at her, she gave me a blank look and continued her sewing.

I didn't hate Yori the same way I did Kosuke. There was a grudging respect for her nestled within me, that she was so certain of herself and her status within this clan that she didn't give a crap what anyone else thought. But the problem was that she seemed to be invested in Kosuke, if my previous conversations with her were to anything to go by.

What kind of woman who didn't love or obey her husband constantly said _my husband_ in every sentence?

"Yori-san," I had tried greeting the second time it happened.

Another blank smile.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it _look_ like I'm doing? Maybe you are all brawn and no brain."

I held in my scowl. "You're sewing. You can sew in your room, though."

"I like the outdoors."

After that incident, I knew I had to change my tactic. Yori usually stayed around for awhile after I trained, as if she was trying to not be suspicious. The moment I finished training one night with Yoshino, I hurried back to my room, changing my clothes and grabbing some sewing that I hadn't touched for months.

Yori was still sitting on the porch, sewing with her bony hands. I plonked down beside her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice even.

"Sewing. I thought I should practise, just in case."

She didn't reply to that. She just kept moving her hands, effortlessly sewing a complicated flower pattern onto the cotton.

After a long moment, Yori put down her work. "I like the outdoors because it's _quiet_ ," she said.

"I'm not talking, though."

Her sigh was filled with annoyance. I ignored it and focused on pushing different coloured thread through needles.

"Give it to me," she ordered when I fumbled for too long. Before I could tell her I was fine, she snatched it out of my hand, effortlessly weaving the thread through the needle and tying it neatly. "At least be good at pretending to do something else," she said, disdain in every word of her voice as she pushed the needle into my hand, pricking it slightly.

When I told Haruka and Maemi this, Maemi looked jealous and Haruka simply smiled.

"You're so lucky!" Maemi gushed. "She's _so_ good at sewing, Kiyo. If she ever made something for me, I think I'd cry."

"But that's not the point," I pressed. "Why would she watch me?"

"Maybe you are being paranoid, Kiyomi," Haruka said, her voice so quiet and suggesting that it didn't sound insulting at all.

I wasn't being paranoid at all. They were just too stupid to see things that were happening right in front of them, that someone like Kosuke was trying desperately to unhinge the Uchiha clan and Yori was _with_ him.

"Right," I said, forcing my voice to sound neutral. "You're probably right. Haruka, what about you? How's everything going with you?"

Haruka smiled at me and started to explain something about sewing and people and nonsense.

* * *

Madara had been gone for nearly three months with Tajima. His absence was strange. It wasn't as if we regularly got together and caught up when he was around, but we would see each at other at meal times, exchanging exasperated glances at whatever ridiculous conversation was happening.

Izuna took it hard, though.

"Do you think he hates me?" Izuna asked one time after dinner.

"Of course not. I think it's impossible for him to hate you," I told him, trying to make sure I didn't sound angry at that.

I was pretty sure that if I had been the one to tell Tajima about the little incident, I would have been put on Madara's shit list permanently.

"He didn't say goodbye before he left," Izuna continued. "And what if he doesn't come back?"

"Don't think like that. He _will_ be back. Have faith in him."

But I didn't have a lot of faith. Maybe it wasn't lack of faith, but a grasp on reality. It would be realistic if Madara didn't come back. I didn't think that would make it any easier to cope.

Izuna went and got updates everyday from Toyozo, demanding to know if there were any changes or news. I focused on my own training.

If they came back, they came back. I'd deal with it later if they didn't.

I was lounging around with Maemi and Haruka in the courtyard when shinobi began to stumble out into the courtyard, and that familiar stench of blood that I had smelt in the corridor that time returned.

Maemi screamed beside me when one man fell down the stairs and didn't move.

"Everyone inside!" someone called.

Haruka's hand found mine, her palm sweaty. "We have to go," she whispered. "We need to get Maemi."

Maemi stood there, hands over her mouth, unmoving as she watched more and more injured people pour out.

There were too many of the injured to fit in the corridor and the healing room. They were spilling out everywhere, moaning.

It felt like one of my nightmares. Only Haruka's hand in mine and the sharp smell and the wind told me otherwise.

We made it out of the courtyard slowly. Maemi was barely moving, and I had to pull her along, holding in my frustration. I wanted to see Madara. If all these people were back, if all these people were injured...

What if he was injured? What if he was worse?

Izuna crashed into me suddenly in the corridor, his hand finding my own.

"Madara's back," he said, his face white.

"Where? Where is he? Is he—is he alright?" I turned to Maemi and Haruka, who were clutching each other. "Go back to your rooms. I have to find Madara."

The entire hallway was a mess of people hurrying around, medic-nins carrying people on stretchers. There were shouts of pain, yells of terror. Izuna and I walked through it, hands gripped tightly together.

Madara was at the end, having his face looked at by a medic-nin. For a moment I didn't recognise him, because —

There was so much blood. It was as if he had bathed in it. He let the medic-nin examine him, his expression blank.

" _Madara!_ " It was Izuna who spoke first, letting go of my hand and rushing towards Madara.

"Are you injured?" I demanded, grabbing Madara's face. There was so much blood, _too much_. His normally scruffy hair that stuck up in every direction was matted down, slick and red.

He pushed my hands away. "It's not mine."

I stared at him, waiting for more. The room seemed too small. _Madara_ seemed too small. We were the same height. He was barely two years older than this body. He was covered in blood.

"Father needs me," he said, brushing past me and leaving the room.

My hands were red. I stared at them, my vision blurring.

"Are you okay?" the medic-nin asked, leaning next to me. "Do you want me to get you some water?"

"No. No, that's fine."

Izuna was silent beside me. I couldn't even comfort him. The medic-nin stared at us, looking confused. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, to leave us alone.

I left Izuna in the healing room, unable to speak to him. I trained with Yoshino that night, barely registering as he ran me through the basics of using the Sharingan before practising my katon.

It wasn't his blood.

That night, the shadows were back, dancing and swirling around me in an eerie kaleidoscope of energy that left me screaming. But no sound would come out. I was left on my knees, clutching at my throat, begging _any_ sound to come out, even a simple fucking hello, that was all I needed, just that —

My chakra was useless in destroying the blobs, my hands unable to form the hand seals that I had effortlessly performed that day.

Only then the fire formed. Destroying the compound. Jin lying on the ground before me, clutching me with pathetic hands, begging me to save him, smoke caught in my throat but no, that wasn't right, that wasn't now, I had already _survived_ that.

I woke up, my sheets all tightened around me. My entire shirt was coated in sweat, my heart feeling like a mess that couldn't stutter out a neat beat in my chest.

"Are you okay?"

I screamed, the sound finally forming as I registered that someone was there. Madara. It was his voice. My vision went blurry and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears away.

When my vision cleared, I saw Madara sitting beside me, his hand on my shoulder.

"Are you—"

"I'm fine," I snapped, brushing his hand off. "Fuck."

He tensed. "You—"

"Can I have some _space_?"

Within moments he was standing up, giving me room. I grabbed the water I kept by my futon and skulled it until it was empty.

Madara didn't move from his position beside my futon, a careful distance between us.

"I didn't—I'm sorry. I should have visited you after seeing you like that in the healing room. I just—" I stopped, not wanting to say what I was thinking.

I needed time to process that my older brother was a killer.

He gave me a weak smile. "I have nightmares too. They're mostly about Izuna and you. That something happens to you and I'm not there."

Did it mean anything that Madara dreamed so vividly about the future, whereas I seemed permanently stuck in the past, unable to move forward?

"You can't always be around."

He shrugged in the darkness. "Maybe. But I can try."

The darkness was a blanket that shielded everything that had happened before this moment. All of our ridiculous fights and then our not so ridiculous ones, all of the anger and frustration and sadness.

"I hear voices as well," I said before I could stop myself. "Not voices. Just one. I don't know, actually, it might be more than one. But I—it doesn't make sense. But it saved me a couple of times and I think that scares me more than it just being something stagnant in my head. I feel like it's something _real_ but it's not."

"What does it say?"

I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it tight around my shoulders. "Different things. Usually violent stuff. I feel like it's a projection of my emotions, I guess. But I dunno."

His head moved and I realised he was nodding.

"That's not...normal, though, is it?" I asked, lowering my voice to a whisper, as if scared the voice itself would hear me.

I jolted when Madara's hand brushed mine. "Who's to say what's normal or not?"

"But you've never heard of it happening to other people."

Madara sighed. "I've heard of people experiencing voices in their head. But it sounds like you've had experiences which make you think it's something tangible almost living inside your mind."

"I think I'm just projecting," I mumbled, burying one of my face in the pillow. "I just—I shouldn't even be talking about myself. You just came back from that mission and—I dunno."

He lay down beside me, staring at the ceiling. "Is it bad that I have nothing to say? That all I want to say is that it was necessary?" He took a deep breath. "That part of me doesn't care?"

"How can you not care? Those were people."

Madara shook his head. "No one's really human out there."

I grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. "Don't lose empathy," I whispered. "You can't. You have to just—you can't lose empathy. They killed our family, but you did too. They're human, too. We all are. We _all_ deserve better."

"Not out there," he said, and I heard him swallow. "You can't afford to think like that out there."

Out there.

Soon I would be out there.

After a few moments of silence, I nudged him. "Make sure you talk to Izuna. He thinks you're mad at him."

Madara's teeth gleamed in the darkness as he smiled slightly. "I will. I'm not mad at him. I could never be mad at him."

I kept my grip tight around his hand, feeling him begin to relax until his breathing grew heavy. I didn't bother to ask or consider why he had been in my room.

With Madara there, by my side, the shadows didn't swarm around me. The fire was gone. There was nothing but steady breathing.

* * *

The esteemed Elders that I had only ever heard of in passing were there. They stood on the small verandah in the distance. There were two men, one _a lot_ younger than the other, and then one woman. Kosuke and Toyozo were also there.

Their expressions were all blank.

"This seems unnecessary," I mumbled to Yoshino.

Yoshino gripped my shoulder and I leaned into his touch. "To you, perhaps. But it is important to them."

Tajima looked composed, as if he didn't care either way whether or not I succeeded. We hadn't spoken since he had returned with Madara.

"Maybe I should fail," I said, looking at Yoshino's face to gauge his reaction. "Maybe I'm not ready."

"I told you, didn't I? No one is ever truly ready."

I nodded. I knew that. But after seeing Madara —

It wasn't the violence that bothered me. It was how unfazed he had been to it. As if him being covered in someone else's blood was just a regular day. And maybe it was. That would be hard to deal with, I knew that, but what would be harder to deal with was imagining myself unbothered.

Slaughtering and not caring.

Doing my _duty_ or whatever and never thinking twice.

"Are you ready?" Yoshino asked.

I nodded. This was what I had wanted. What I had asked for. What I _deserved_.

Ryuu's words echoed in my head, the ones that propelled me forward, that were the reasoning behind my training and my actions.

 _If you don't make something of yourself they'll make something for you._

I wasn't going to be a wife. I was going to prove myself, my strength. I was going to wipe those stupid unamused and vacant expressions off all of their faces.

Yoshino began walking towards the others. My stomach churned, and I felt as if I had lost all the confidence I just had when he had been beside him. I activated my Sharingan, forcing myself to get into the zone and focus my chakra as a warm up. I rarely used it because Yoshino had only taught me the basics, but always found that it forced me to focus, enabled a certain intensity within me that wouldn't be there without it.

 _Just do_ it, the voice chanted in my head, annoyingly loud.

I took a deep breath, running through the hand seals that I used to fumble through.

The fire erupted from my lips. It was weird how it didn't hurt. All I felt was vague heat, the type you feel on your hands when you hold them over a fire, only in my mouth.

Yoshino had explained it, once, but I hadn't really cared, so fascinated with the idea that I could breathe fire and my throat wouldn't burn or hurt.

The fire ball crashed into the target, engulfing it in tall flames that gently licked the trees, setting the leaves on fire before Yoshino quickly put it out with a water ninjutsu he had copied at some point. I watched it for a moment, the way the leaves wilted in on themselves from the intensity of the fire.

I didn't want to look behind me and see the faces of the Elders and Tajima.

It was only when Yoshino pushed me in the direction of them and turned me around that I saw their faces.

Tajima's was still composed. Kosuke looked unamused. The Elders were unreadable.

"Well?" I demanded, crossing my arms.

Yoshino glared at me.

"I believe it is acceptable," the old man Elder said, though his lips were pursed and his arms were crossed, as if he thought this whole thing was stupid and annoying.

 _Acceptable_. I gave him a fake smile.

"Then Kiyomi is prepared and ready to go into active duty and perform missions for the clan," Tajima said, not really speaking to me. "Does anyone have any complaints?"

I waited for Kosuke to speak up and say something but he remained silent.

"Very well, then." Tajima finally looked at me. "Congratulations."

Tajima left first without another glance, followed by the Elders and Toyozo who trailed behind him. Kosuke began approaching us.

"Yoshino, your mother needs to speak with you. Go see what she wants," he ordered.

I looked at Yoshino, pleading with my eyes for him to stay. He didn't notice or care. He nodded at his father's words and left.

We both stared at each other.

 _Destroy him_ , the voice whispered in my head.

"Well then," Kosuke said, his expression difficult to decipher. Was he sneering, or was it a grimace? "You did it. I was wrong."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah, you were."

"I had faith in Yoshino's ability. It was just you I had my doubts about."

"Well, I have my doubts about you, too," I said, keeping my tone steady.

Kosuke began to laugh, the sound grating on my nerves. It sounded perfectly normal. It could have been any man laughing. But his face, those eyes that always seemed to shine with too much ambition and too many bad ideas made it an uncomfortable sound.

"You know, you're quite amusing, Kiyomi-chan," Kosuke said. He patted my shoulder, nearly sending me stumbling to the ground. "Perhaps you'll be assigned to one of my missions. I'm sure that would be a learning experience for you."

"Thank you for your compliments, Kosuke-san," I replied, forcing myself to bow my head. "I appreciate it. And I am certain that it would be an excellent learning experience."

His smile widened. "I look forward to it."

He walked leisurely to the door, as if he had not a care in the world. As if he didn't see me with my fists clenched, my chakra whirling in the air, my Sharingan still activated.

 _Just fucking_ kill _him already!_

I deactivated my Sharingan, enjoying the blissful silence within my head.

* * *

The pile of presents was huge. Ryuu was on my left and Haruka and Maemi on my right, my two brothers behind me. Everyone I had ever seen and interacted with in the compound were crammed into the room. Even Kosuke and Yori were watching, tucked away in a small corner.

Most of the gifts were decadent and seemed expensive. I accepted them and the hugs that followed, until all that remained was one last present.

Tajima's.

He stood in another corner, arms crossed. I hadn't seen him move throughout the entire celebration.

The long and slim package could only be one thing. I removed the thick twine and tore through the brown paper, staring at the black sheath that was revealed.

Within moments, I was holding a slender sword. It was no _kodachi_ , no short sword, no training sword with a blunt edge. When I ran my finger lightly along the edge, I felt it. Felt the sharpness and coolness of the blade.

"That's a damn good sword," Ryuu said, whistling. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Matsuri shoot Ryuu a look, most likely for his language.

But my eyes were on Tajima. He gave me a rather youthful shrug, as if to say _what about it?_

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Father. I—" I stopped, biting my lip as I glanced once again down at the sword before looking back up. "I love it."

He nodded his head. I turned my attention back to the sword, cradling it in my hands. It was mine. It was...approval.

I barely noticed the other presents, barely registered anything else. It was mine. It was everything I had asked for and demanded of.

"I have a gift for you, but it's in my room," Madara whispered in my ear during my birthday dinner feast.

"You didn't have to get me anything," I replied, shoving more of the delicious stew Mei had made into my mouth.

Madara wrinkled his nose at my behaviour. "It's not just from me. Izuna and Ryuu, too."

"Izuna shouldn't be thinking of getting me gifts."

He rolled his eyes. "Just come to my room after dinner."

Madara's annoyingly nice room was rather to difficult to get to, considering every hallway I went down someone interrupted me, wishing me a nice birthday. I had no idea who they even were.

I was ready to hit someone by the time I slid the door open to his room. Izuna was beaming at me, whereas Ryuu and Madara had that kind of forced nonchalance about them.

Sitting in the centre of the room was a suit of armour.

"It was my first set of armour," Madara told me, touching one of the shoulder pieces lightly. "I've outgrown it. It would definitely fit you, though. You're only slightly bigger than me when I first got it."

I reached out and touched the various indents and scuffs on it. He had owned it for such little time. And then he had grown, his height increasing, his muscles constantly growing as he trained and trained and trained.

"I couldn't be bothered thinking of a gift for you, so it's from me as well," Ryuu interjected.

"And me, Kiyo-chan!" Izuna chirped.

Before Madara could avoid it, I reached out and hugged him, squeezing as tightly as I could.

How could I convey an emotion that I couldn't express because neither of us were that great at talking about important things unless it was dark? How could I tell him how much I appreciated it, because this was _support_ , not just a suit of armour?

"Thank you," I whispered in his ear, feeling inadequate. I pulled away before he could reply and turned to the other two. "And of course, you two contributed. Thanks."

Ryuu rolled his eyes and Izuna hurried towards me for a hug. I squeezed him just as tight, ignoring how strong and wiry his frame seemed.

A suit of armour. And a sword.

I had everything I needed.

* * *

 **A/N:** and I updated within a month! I love growth

as per usual, thank you so much to everyone reviewing/following/faving, I really appreciate hearing all your comments and everything! i'm super excited for the next chapter because there's a bit of a time skip...(spoiler lol)

I hope everyone had a good new year!


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

It was a rare moment. Usually it was me trudging behind Yoshino as he powered through the forest. This time, though, Yoshino was falling behind even if it was only by a few centimetres.

"You're not usually this eager to get back to the compound," Yoshino commented as I sped up the pace once again as we flew through the forest. "Something exciting happening?"

"Of course not," I lied, the words coming out in a heavy breath as I focused on each foot in front of the other. "Can't I just be eager to return to my beautiful family?"

Without looking behind me, I knew that he was giving me an incredulous look, which was fair enough considering a stupid nearly fourteen year old boy in the deep midst of puberty wasn't beautiful. Izuna still was, but that was a given. I was pretty sure Izuna could never _not_ be beautiful.

"Maybe I should train you on how to lie properly," Yoshino said from beside me before he easily took the lead.

I rolled my eyes as he sped up to a point I knew I wouldn't be able to keep up. "Well maybe I can't be bothered after two weeks of slumming it in the forest!"

There was no reply because Yoshino was out of sight, ahead of me in the cluster of thick trees. It didn't bother me as long as he was travelling at a fast pace.

When the sun was down, we both halted in a nearby clearing. I stared at it, picturing the thick dirt that was never comfortable even after sleeping on it and 'getting used to it' for two weeks. There was a thin river nearby, and I could imagine the absolutely fucking freezing water that I would have to used to semi wash myself.

"You don't look keen," Yoshino drawled.

"Can't we just keep going? We only have about a days worth of travel. Don't you think it's worth it to push ourselves so we make it back earlier? To a _real_ bed? A _real_ bath?"

He sighed. "When did you become this dramatic? We've been out here for two weeks, not two years."

"It feels like two years!" I protested. "All the other missions we've done before were only two days. This was stupid. It was like the two day ones, only more drawn out. Nothing even happened!"

Every mission I had ever done went the same. I was partnered with Yoshino, and we were asked to observe a clan. We were told to _never_ engage, and asked to simply watch some mercenary clans and their actions. It was never a mercenary clan that was directly opposing the Uchiha. Just ones that they wanted to keep an eye on.

This had been the same, only the mercenary clan frequented closer to the southern coast of the Fire Country. It meant a _long_ journey of going through forest after forest. I had been hoping for some kind of glimpse of the ocean too, because I had never seen it in this life.

But no. Of course, this stupid mercenary clan that weren't even planning on attacking us weren't right next to the coast, just a few kilometres off it.

My excitement for missions had rapidly dissipated. It didn't help hearing Madara talk about the missions he was completing.

"Talk to your father. I've told you that a dozen times or so, and you still haven't. It's not my problem," Yoshino said. He grabbed the scroll that contained the bed rolls from his bag and glanced at me. "Stop or not?"

"Not," I replied, forcing my tone to remain neutral. "Let's just keep going."

It was a lot colder at night than the day. Though the days were pleasant as it was spring and the disgusting humidity of summer hadn't settled in yet, it still meant that the nights were spent somewhat shivering.

The sun was well and truly up by the time we reached the compound. I brushed past the guards who started eagerly chatting with Yoshino when we entered. All I wanted to do was get my armour off, have a very long bath and then wear actual clothes that didn't weigh half my weight. But I knew that Yoshino would yell at me later if I didn't follow the correct _procedure_.

I peeped in Tajima's office before entering, making sure there were no dumb advisors or Kami forbid one of the stupid _Elders_ visiting. He glanced up and gave me a small smile.

"You came back early," he said redundantly. "Where's Yoshino?"

"Having a nice old chat. There was nothing to report, by the way. _As usual_." I smiled at him, despite the fact that I wanted to scream for a proper mission.

Tajima's smile widened. "Excellent. We were—"

"Just a little bit concerned about the clan and it's very important to make sure they weren't thinking of attacking," I finished for him. "Yes, I'm aware."

He raised an eyebrow. "Something you wish to say?"

I forced myself not to roll my eyes in front of him. Mei was always lecturing me about it, and that just because I was no longer a kid didn't mean I had to act surly all the time. Yet Tajima was just eye roll inducing. It wasn't my fault.

"Of course not. Everything went well, it was fine, we're safe, blah blah. Can I go now?"

"Of course," Tajima said, as if he was such a kind person. "Make sure you are ready for tonight. It will be a big dinner. The Elders will be there, and you will need to make a good impression."

That meant that I needed to wear a _nice_ dainty kimono whereas Madara would probably be waltzing around in his armour. I didn't know why I should make that kind of impression. They had approved me going on missions, so wouldn't they want me to be in armour? Proving myself?

Mei took care of everything for me. I didn't need to worry about being ready for tonight when she was there. She had everything planned from my hair to my shoes to the scented oils in the bath.

"Were you rolling around in dirt?" she asked, shaking her head before I got in the bath. "What is this?"

"It was a long mission, Mei-san."

I had gotten over my fear of her helping me bathe despite the fact that I was freaking _twelve_ — or at least they thought I was — and my body was beginning to change in ways that I wasn't comfortable with an older woman seeing. Mei was forever tutting and reprimanding me about my manners that I never really felt uncomfortable anyway.

"This looks stupid," I said when I was all ready.

The _hikizuri_ was the most annoying thing I had ever worn. Sure, it looked great, and it screamed _Tajima-sama is really rich and amazing!_ Yet the long trail of fabric behind me meant I had to walk slow and purposeful, even with the _geta_ attempting to keep it off the ground. Mei had let my hair loose yet somehow managed to tame the disgusting mangy curls into something presentable through water, oil and pins.

"You look beautiful," Mei told me, squeezing my shoulders. "Although you are far too tanned. And scrawny!"

"It's muscle, Mei-san."

"A girl like you shouldn't be that tanned or have that much muscle."

"It's starting to get hot," I protested, not bothering to argue with the inherent sexism within her statement. "And would you rather me be fat?"

Mei tutted. "Do not say things like that."

I turned my back on her so I could roll my eyes safely, leaving the room before she could say anything else that would annoy me.

Getting ready had taken the entirety of the day, with only a short break for a late lunch. I hadn't had any time to greet Madara and Izuna, who probably thought I was still heading home unless they'd bumped into Yoshino.

The main corridor was emptied, guarded by shinobi standing at all the entrance doors because Yoshino's dinner was _private_. They didn't want random plebeian Uchiha running around the place for the Elders to see.

Mei deposited me firmly in the main dining room, which had been set up to the extreme. The fine crockery had been set out, the table was decorated and candles were lit. No one was sitting, though. Instead, there was a weird hierarchal arrangement of the room, with the Elders, Tajima and Kosuke in the centre and people gravitating outwards by importance. On the edge were Haruka and Matsuri.

To my dismay, Madara and Izuna weren't there yet.

"You look beautiful, Kiyomi," Haruka said when she spotted me, giving me a small bow.

Her actions made me want to leave the room, as whenever we usually saw each other we would hug, _never_ bow. Unless we were mucking around.

Even Matsuri gave me a respectful nod.

"How was your mission?" Haruka continued, and I saw Matsuri politely excuse herself out of the corner of her eye to speak with my old friend, Saori.

"Uneventful."

"You say that about all of them," she complained. "Surely there is _something_ worth saying."

I shook my head. "I'm serious. They're all boring and silly and uneventful. I wish something happened, believe me."

Haruka sighed and I turned my attention to the centre of the room. Kosuke had left to speak to Yoshino who lingered a little outside. There were other people there with them who I didn't recognise. They were in armour, though, and in my opinion looked arrogant and out of place. It was a formal occasion. I didn't think there was any need to show off your armour.

"How long do you reckon these old farts will waste before we start eating?" Ryuu said, sliding in between us, his armour thankfully absent. "I'm not sure if there's some kind of unspoken rule for this stuff."

"Be polite, Ryuu," Haruka said, keeping her voice low. "The—"

" _Elders are around_ ," he mimicked with shocking accuracy. "Yeah, I can see."

"Where's Madara and Izuna?" I asked Ryuu, ignoring their squabble.

Ryuu shrugged. "I dunno. I haven't seen Madara all day. I saw Izuna training earlier, though. He should be here."

"How can you not see Madara all day?"

"I'm not his keeper."

"I'm not saying you are. I'm just saying, he's around your age and—"

"Just because we're friends doesn't mean I need to know where he is _all the time_. I'm not needy like you women."

I rolled my eyes at Ryuu's usual tirade that would end in _you women_. It was boring at this point.

"Shall we all be seated?" Tajima called, his voice effortlessly rising above everyone else's discussions in the room.

And so the hierarchal room standing turned into hierarchal table sitting. Tajima at the head, Yoshino at the other head, the Elders and the council near Tajima, and the dumb ass armour wearing shinobi near Yoshino. Near the centre was the women, with Ryuu and I on the edge. I noticed two missing spots in between Ryuu and one of the shinobi, surely for Madara and Izuna.

The food was served and the quiet conversation between several groups continued. I glared at the two empty spots, waiting for both my brothers to magically appear, seeing as I hadn't seen them in nearly a month.

Most of the time, these important dinners which were usually when a certain milestone for Madara and Izuna had been reached, like birthdays or special fucked up missions. I always spent the entire time trying to eavesdrop. The Elders loved talking, and they loved talking loudly so that people could hear how important they were.

Unfortunately, for whatever reason, they were subdued tonight. Kosuke sat glaring at the wall, Tajima gave that half-smile he always did when things weren't okay but he had to pretend, and the Elders were quietly muttering to themselves. It was only good old Shin who was being loud with his wet blanket ways.

After dinner was simply more standing around and talking about how important everything was. I stuck with Ryuu on the outside, leaving Haruka to chat quietly with her mother.

"This is boring," I complained to Ryuu. "Usually the Elders are embarrassing themselves by talking really loudly."

"I know. It's always fun when they get roaring drunk, too."

I grinned. "Do you remember when the young one—"

"Chika-san," Ryuu interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"—vomited in the courtyard? And we all had to pretend like it wasn't happening even though he was so loud. That gag reflex was intense."

Ryuu sighed. "Those were the days."

Even though Ryuu was good at being distracting and entertaining, all I wanted was to go back to my room and tear off my disgusting outfit. My hair was beginning to dry and fall out of place, making me look like some kind of crazed witch.

"I'm gonna leave," I told Ryuu. "Can you come with me and pretend you're sick?"

He groaned. "Why am I always the sick one?"

"You're way more pale than me. You constantly look sick. Just do it."

"Only because I want to get out of here as much as you."

I saw Tajima glare at me out of the corner of his eye when I started to exit. Hoping my acting and lying skills weren't as bad as Yoshino claimed, I plastered an expression of sadness and empathy on my face, wrapping my arm Ryuu and patting his back as if he was about to vomit.

"Don't fucking touch me," he hissed under his breath as we left.

The corridor was still cleared out of people. I headed away from my room, ready to deposit Ryuu safely in his so he could be sick in peace when he nudged me, glaring at me to stop walking.

There were people talking loudly around the corner.

"—don't know how he does it. He has so much patience, I swear. If I were him, I would've fucked off long ago. But I suppose it's smart, isn't it, attaching yourself to someone like that who has a lot of power?"

Someone snorted. "Power by blood. She's lucky."

"But he doesn't even need it. He has enough. He has _a lot_. The Elders bloody love him. He could do better, though, if he stopped wasting his time with her. That's what he always does, in between his _actual_ missions. Goes on her little ones. As if he needs to. Even _she_ could probably go on her own and still make it back in one piece."

"That's giving her a lot of credit."

They were talking about me.

Ryuu grabbed my arm when I stepped forward. "Stop," he whispered. "Don't give them that satisfaction."

"I'm not giving _them_ satisfaction, I'm giving _me_ satisfaction when my fist meets their faces."

He shook his head. "Seriously. They're stupid."

It didn't feel stupid. That was the worst part. The worst part was their words made my heart pound because it was the truth. Everyone was forever raving about Yoshino.

His freaking birthday dinner was bigger than _Madara's_. He was a big deal.

The two shinobi came around the corner and stared blankly at Ryuu and I in the middle of the hallway. I wanted to rip their stupid armour off them and slam it into their heads.

They didn't say a word as they returned to the party.

"What assholes," Ryuu mumbled. "They're probably not even talented."

They were talented. They were at a stupid elitist dinner with the clan head and Elders. You had to be talented and strong to do that.

My rapidly fading anger merged into exhaustion as the past few days sent scrambling through the forest caught up to me.

"I'm gonna go to bed," I told Ryuu, who was still standing there and frowning at me. "I need to sleep for at least three days."

He smiled, though it looked forced. "Yeah. Right. Well, still. Don't let what they say bother you. They're—"

"Stupid," I finished for him. "I know. Thanks."

I trudged down the hallway, briefly looking into the dining room where everyone was still gathered. Yoshino stood in the middle, surrounded by people, the two armoured assholes included. He frowned at me over their heads, and I gave him a small smile before hurrying back to my room.

It took awhile to untie everything and make sure it was neatly folded. I had stolen some of Madara's old clothes a few years ago, and they were always my favourite things to get into. Soon he would be taller and bigger than me.

Lying in bed did nothing. I felt a horrible sense of loneliness. Part of me wanted desperately for the voice I sometimes heard at the back of my head to whisper something in my ear. But it had come out sparingly the past few months, as if condemning me to my own thoughts that I couldn't blame on something else.

When I left my room, the elite hallway was back to being occasionally walked through by the other members of the Uchiha clan. The usual guards were posted in the usual places, meaning Yoshino's dinner was over.

Tajima's door to his office was open, and he was cleaning things up, occasionally glancing at a scroll or another.

I decided to be polite and knocked on the frame.

"You should be resting," Tajima said without looking up from where he was re-arranging things on his desk. "You just returned from a long mission and then had a big day. You—"

"I want a better mission. A proper mission. I want something where I'm not sitting on my ass for days and days, watching people and not doing anything. I don't care about these stupid mercenary clans. Give me something _better_. Give me something I—"

"You care about?" he interrupted. "You want something you care about?"

I hesitated, having a feeling he was going to twist my words. "Not necessarily, but—"

He threw a scroll on the desk between us. I stared at it, waiting for him to elaborate. When I opened it, the words carefully written at the top glared at me in thick script.

 _Kenta clan_.

"That's—"

"Something you care about," he finished for me. "Is that what you want? Do you want to go on a mission like that and get revenge?"

"I just want to _do something meaningful!_ " I snapped. "I'm sick of wasting my time."

It wasn't really about my time. Maybe Tajima knew that. Or maybe he didn't care.

It was about Yoshino's. It was about Yoshino who could be doing a thousand other things but instead he was sitting with me in some stupid bush in the middle of the Fire Country every month, _watching_ people.

But it was also about me, as much as I didn't want to admit it to myself. Sitting here made me feel useless. It made me feel like all my hard work was for nothing. I deserved recognition. I had worked work hard. I was strong.

And the Kenta clan deserved to die.

Tajima hadn't said a word despite my outburst, as if he knew I was deliberating over something within my head.

"Can I take the mission? Or are you just waiting until I give my answer and then you're gonna take it back?" I demanded.

"I gave you the scroll. If you say yes, the mission is yours. You and Yoshino can leave in a few days or earlier, if you would like."

The scroll was light in my hands. It didn't feel at all incriminating. Yet the words on it were damning. There was no _do not attack under any circumstances_ written on it.

It basically ordered you to kill whoever you saw from the Kenta clan on sight.

"Is there a reason why you gave me all the stupid missions first?" I asked, re-sealing the scroll but not giving it back to him. "Was that a test?"

"Not everything is a test," Tajima said dryly. "And no, it was not. The Elders suggested to me that it would be better to slowly introduce you to missions. They wanted a different person leading them, however I managed to persuade them otherwise."

I rolled my eyes. "They _suggested_. You're the clan head. Clan _head_. They didn't order you to."

"It was a suggestion. A suggestion from the Elders is as good as an order, Kiyomi. If they believe the clan head is not benefiting the clan, then they will get rid of him. That is simply how the clan works."

"How do you get rid of the Elders then, if they aren't benefiting the clan?"

Tajima chuckled. "There is no official way. The people believe that they always work towards benefiting the clan."

"And what do you believe, then? Do you believe that what they are doing is benefiting the clan? I'm just one person who wants to go on missions."

"I believe that I would have done the same, in the beginning. I would have sent you on these missions with a variety of shinobi. And then I would have sent you on missions like that." He nodded his head towards the scroll. "And you are not just one person. The Elders view you as..." He paused, as if considering his words and whether he wanted to be an asshole or not. "A pawn," he finished.

"A pawn," I repeated dully.

He smiled at my expression. "Yes. You can be married off, essentially, to someone who begins to cause trouble within the clan and have too much ambition. That would satisfy them, hopefully. A direct connection to the clan head. And if you are on active missions, then you have a high chance of dying. And that would destroy their pawn."

It made sense. I had to tell myself that. It made sense. Ryuu had told me the same thing awhile back. I knew that it was highly possible and likely that one day, I would have to marry someone I didn't want to.

"So you're disobeying the Elders now, then?" I asked, squeezing the scroll. "By giving me this?"

Tajima shrugged. "Perhaps. I can ease their worries with other things, though."

I didn't want to ask what the _other things_ were. He had already avoided my question of whether he thought the Elders were benefiting the clan. In my eyes, that was Tajima-speak for _no_.

"Inform Yoshino of the mission," Tajima told me before I could continue my questioning. "Leave soon, but feel free to rest. You did just return from—"

"Basically just a three week sleep in the woods," I finished for him. "We can leave tomorrow."

He inclined his head. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

"Then leave tomorrow whenever you are prepared. Perhaps consult Yoshino first, however, considering you are not the _only_ person on this mission."

I didn't even blush at his admonishment. Yoshino would be eager. It was a _proper_ mission, and my constant remarks on how boring the other ones were always annoyed him.

Yoshino's room was near mine, a rare placement for someone not directly related to the clan head, or so I had been told. I had no idea if he would even be there, or if he would be his usual workaholic self and go training, even after a mission and a special dinner just for him.

There were audible voices coming from Yoshino's room when I got there. It sounded like his mother and him, but their conversation was too quiet to hear.

I'd be destroyed by Yoshino if I eavesdropped, so I quickly knocked and hoped that Yori wouldn't make some snide remarks at me just wearing my sleeping clothes.

Yoshino slid open the door, staring blankly down at me. Yori stood behind him, arms folded over her chest, her lips pursed in that constant expression of bitter disappointment.

"Kiyomi," he said, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

I held up the scroll and gave it a wave. "I spoke to Taji—Father," I quickly corrected, remembering Yori was there. "He gave us another mission." _A proper one_ , I wanted to add, but he would already know that was implied.

He nodded, taking it from my hand. "I'll have a look tomorrow after our training."

"I was thinking we could leave tomorrow," I said, giving him a pleading smile. "The quicker we start, the quicker we finish."

His frown deepened. He opened the scroll, and I saw the exact moment that his eyes reached the word _Kenta_.

"We can talk another time, Yoshino," Yori said, walking up to him and touching him on the shoulder for half a second. "You clearly have something to deal with."

Yoshino's frown vanished. "Of course. If I'm not busy tomorrow, we can go for a walk."

She nodded, a tiny _tiny_ smile appearing on her face before it disappeared when she turned to give me a curt look. When the door slid shut behind her, Yoshino gave me an exasperated look.

" _This_ is what you asked for?" he demanded, shoving the scroll back into my hands.

"What? No! It was just what Tajima gave me. And stop yelling."

Yoshino shook his head. "I'm not yelling. I'm _asking_ you to tell me things."

"In a very aggressive way."

"This mission is a very aggressive mission."

"That's what I've been wanting! Something different. This is different, Yoshino. And I want to leave tomorrow. I'm not even tired from the mission."

He paused for a moment, staring at the ceiling as if begging for someone to rescue him. "I suppose for you, getting dressed up is worse than those missions. Even though you could have avoided tonight entirely if you had just kept the original pace. I'm not impressed that you wanted to get home quicker all so I had to suffer through a miserable night."

"It's your birthday. You deserve a nice dinner."

Yoshino laughed, patting me on the shoulder with far too much strength. "I think we both know that was far from a nice dinner."

I thought of those stupid shinobi and how they had all been gossiping about me and then chatting happily with Yoshino when we were eating. Best buds, or something. I had never seen them before, but presumably if they were at the dinner they knew him. And if they knew him, then maybe he had said those things to him.

"What's with that face?" Yoshino asked, frowning down at me. His forehead was basically a mess of wrinkles with all the frowning he did.

"Just thinking about the _nice_ dinner."

He patted my shoulder, this time more gently. "Stop thinking about my excellent dinner and go get some rest. You want to leave tomorrow? That's fine by me. But we _won't_ be leaving early. You need rest."

"And you don't?" I countered.

"I'm old."

"You still sleep when you're old. If anything, you sleep more. That's a silly excuse."

Yoshino sighed. "Just go to bed, Kiyomi. I'll see you tomorrow."

With his hand still on my shoulder, he forced me out of his room, giving me one last considering look before sliding the door shut. I stared at it, wishing I had the courage to open it back up and apologise for whatever I had done.

But I hadn't _done_ anything. In fact, I had done what he had asked.

I trudged back to my room, glowering at any of the servants who bowed to me.

"You're going to get wrinkles in a few months with a face like that."

Madara grinned when I spun around and stared at him in shock, rapidly searching him to make sure there were no visible wounds. There weren't, but there was a pungent smell of dirt, blood and sweat.

"Where were you and Izuna?" I demanded, marching up to him. "It was Yoshino's dinner. You knew that. I told you before I left to _be_ there."

"I thought you would be arriving tomorrow," Madara said, shrugging as he started walking down the hallway. "It was only a short mission. I came back early, in fact. I was going to return tomorrow to see you."

"And Izuna?"

Madara shrugged. "I saw him this morning before I left. I thought he would have been there. He might have been sent on a mission."

"I didn't realise Izuna was doing missions."

"He's eleven."

"That's young, Madara."

I followed him as he entered his room and began to undo the buckles on his armour, loosening them slightly. Madara was finally starting to lose the baby fat, which was weird. It had always been quite funny seeing him angry when his cheeks were still a little chubby and his forehead was constantly shiny. Yet now the acne was fading, the cheeks were becoming gaunt and he was beginning to grow.

At the moment, I was taller than him due to an earlier growth spurt. But that didn't seem like it was going to last long.

"Are you two still training together?" I asked when it seemed Madara was just going to stand in the middle of his room and do nothing.

He shook his head. "Father wants him to be trained more in stealth."

"Stealth? But I mean, we still get trained in stealth?"

Madara shrugged and turned away from me. "I need food. Do you want some?"

I rolled my eyes, used to his stupid appetite whenever he got back from a mission. "No. Because y'know, there was an entire _feast_ and the Elders were there and everything."

"I'll see them tomorrow. It isn't a big deal." He popped his head out into the corridor and a moment later, I heard him speaking with a servant.

When he returned he began to set up the _zabuton_ around the small table in the corner of his room. I didn't even have a table in mine.

"I just wanted to see Izuna because I'm leaving again tomorrow," I said as we sat across from other. "I'm going on another mission."

Madara frowned. "You got back today. You should rest before leaving again so soon."

"Oh, please. You've heard me complain enough about my missions to know that I do more resting on the mission than I do back here."

We shared a grin.

"It's a proper mission this time, though," I continued. I toyed with the idea of giving him the scroll, showing him exactly what the mission entailed or even just simply telling him it was related to the Kenta clan.

I had a feeling he would overreact, though. It wasn't that Madara was heavily over-protective. It was more of a _why don't I just do this thing that could get you killed and risk my own life instead of yours?_ But I had never really had to have him intervene in anything, even when the stupid shinobi around my age riled me up that time and I punched one of them.

Madara had laughed at that. I had a feeling he wouldn't laugh about me going to hunt down the Kenta clan.

"How long will you be gone for?" he asked.

"Awhile. A month or more, maybe."

"I'll tell Izuna when he gets back. He'll be upset he missed you."

I could picture his reaction in my head even now. The characteristic pout and dramatic sigh whenever he didn't get his own way. I was pretty sure he could manipulate anyone in the compound to give him whatever he wanted with that pout and sigh. He seemed to have all the charisma in the world, whereas Madara and I were left with just anger.

It worked in my favour, at least. Madara got sick of Izuna more easily than he got sick of me. In the rare moments where we were all in the compound for a long time, Madara and I would often escape Izuna, not wanting to deal with his loud personality and continuous energy.

Yet they still had that weird brother bond that I knew I could never get between. Whatever happened, whatever Izuna did to annoy Madara, it never mattered. Everything was forgiven within a second.

I had something different with each of them, though. Izuna and I could lounge around and talk about nonsense and gossip and complain about Madara's excessive moodiness. Madara and I could sit in silence, occasionally saying something but mostly just enjoying each other's company.

Or, Madara would beat me into the dirt on the foolish occasions I asked him to spar with me.

They could have their little brotherly bond that seemed untouchable. I could just be their sister when they needed me.

I smiled at Madara and ruffled his already messy hair, causing him to snarl. "And you'll miss me when I'm gone. You don't need to say it. I just know. I can read it in your look."

"My look of anger at you messing up my hair?" he snapped, but it was light hearted for him.

"Your look of pure love as I lovingly attempt to fix your unfixable hair."

He rolled his eyes. There was a knock at the door, and I watched as an obscene amount of food was delivered to him quickly. Madara didn't even look at me before tearing into it rudely, chewing with his mouth open and making disgusting squelching sounds.

"I'll leave you to it then," I said dryly.

Madara shook his head, swallowing and grabbing my hand as he stood up at the same time as me. "Be safe, alright? Don't do anything stupid. You're allowed to run away."

I smiled. "Yeah, of course."

"I'm being serious, Kiyomi. You can run away and come back and no one's gonna judge you for it."

That was bullshit. I knew that other people would judge me, but more importantly _I_ would judge me.

"I know," I told him, squeezing his hand. "I'll be safe and smart and all that stuff. I'll be back before you know it."

He looked like he was about to hug me before he let go of my hand and sat down again, inhaling his food once again. He had clearly reached his emotional capacity in telling me to take care.

It didn't bother me. We rarely hugged, but there were other ways to show that you cared about someone.

* * *

The beginning of the journey was rather anticlimactic. I wasn't sure what I was expecting when I left the compound with Yoshino after lunch. Fireworks, or maybe even the Kenta clan stepping out of the shadows, ready to kill. Instead it was a warm day, and little rays of sun leaked through the heavy forest canopies.

Yoshino's silence was the only sign that this mission was different from the rest. He kept a considerable distance between us as we headed east, meaning I would have to shout for him to hear him. He had also ordered me to activate my Sharingan after a few hours when we had left Uchiha territory, insisting that this area was common for mercenaries to be lingering about.

After two weeks of complete disuse, it felt odd to consistently activate it. The clarity was almost blinding, and watching Yoshino's chakra jump all around his body before focusing on his feet.

He was agitated.

His mood worsened at night when he informed that we couldn't have a fire, and that I had to keep my armour on. There wasn't even any camping equipment, because we couldn't risk that kind of luxury.

I ate dried meat for dinner, missing the taste of the fresh fish Yoshino and I would usually cook over a fire. Missing the bed roll which I could easily lay in and stare at the stars.

There was nothing but dirt and hard ground.

"Why did you agree to this?" Yoshino asked, leaning against a tree with his eyes closed. He looked the epitome of relaxed, but the slight tension in his shoulders and the way his hand rested at his weapons pouch said otherwise.

"You don't think I'm good enough?" I countered.

He snorted. "That's irrelevant. What made you want to take this?"

"You asked me to speak to Tajima. I spoke to him. Now you're...what? Upset that I did or something?"

"I'm not upset."

"Well it seems like you're _something_."

I ripped into the rest of my dried meat, ignoring how chewy and salty and disgusting it was. We hadn't figured out who was doing first watch, but part of me wanted to be petty and just go to sleep anyway.

Of course, then he probably just wouldn't bother waking me up and watch the whole night.

"You're awful at eavesdropping," Yoshino said.

I frowned, turning to look at him again. "What?"

"At my dinner in the hallway," he clarified. "I saw you and Ryuu. And heard what those other people said."

I quickly looked away from him, feeling my cheeks starting to warm. "No, I mean, well—"

"I barely know them," Yoshino continued. "They made all that up. It was their words, not mine."

"They didn't make it up. It's true. You go on missions with me that are boring. And then you go on _elite_ and _exclusive_ missions for Tajima because you're the best stupid shinobi this clan has. You slum it with me and then go and—"

"Kill women, men and children. Slaughter villages. Torture people until they give me information that I don't care about but is somehow important. Destroy people's futures."

I dug my fingers into the dirt. "Stop making me feel guilty for wanting more."

"More _what?_ Violence? I'm not making you feel anything. You're feeling guilty because you know I'm right."

"No, you're not right. And it's not more violence. It's making a difference. It's doing _things_ that will make a difference."

Yoshino shook his head. "Right. Making a difference. And if you have to do those things to make a difference? Where's the line?"

"I don't _know_!" I snapped. "I'm not some extremely moral person! I'm just me. And this is what I want to do. And I don't understand why you want to be stuck here on these boring missions when you could be out there, actively making a difference. Saving lives. _That's_ what I don't get! And I think those people are right, whether they know you or not."

I waited for a response. Yoshino was glaring at the sky, as if he wanted it to fall on top of us. I wanted it to fall on top of him and knock some sense into his stupid head.

It was dumb. He was being illogical. If I had the offer to go on the missions he did, and then someone told me I was stuck with some dumb girl and had to accompany her to silly missions that didn't matter, I'd pick the other missions. A thousand times over. Easily.

"I volunteered," Yoshino said, his words clipped. "I volunteered to accompany you. Not because I felt obliged. I wanted to. And I can already tell your _stupid_ mind is going to take this the wrong way. I wanted to because it's easy. It's a break for me. I get to pretend, for a moment, that there _is_ peace."

But there wasn't peace. There wasn't peace, and if he had the power to fix things instead of lying around doing shit all with me, then why didn't he?

I didn't say that to him. I clenched my teeth together until my jaw ached.

"I don't want to argue," I said instead.

Yoshino snorted. "Bottling up your true feelings inside is worse than telling me what you think. But it doesn't matter. I already know it, anyway. The difference is I believe peace isn't formed by violence. I don't think me going on those missions would help anything. It just makes it worse. That's why I refuse and go on these missions with you, Kiyomi."

"Then why didn't you refuse this one?"

"You wanted to. You want to see what it's like. So here we are. You can see what it's like. You can form your own opinion."

I said nothing. We sat there, a good distance between us so that I couldn't even hear his breath over the night sounds.

"You're a good person," I said after a moment. "Way too good."

Yoshino shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Thank you for coming with me. I want—I just want to do something for the clan."

"Revenge fuels a cycle of hatred that keeps going and going. It does nothing to help." He paused and took a deep breath, his tone changing slightly. "You can do this, though. It'll be a good test of everything you've learnt. Although one thing that needs improvement is you need to learn to lower your voice when arguing. _Especially_ out in disputed territory."

I gave him a small smile. "I'm a passionate person. I'll learn to whisper shout at you from now on."

"Or you could do the world a favour and not talk at all."

"That's not a favour," I complained.

Yoshino shrugged, and though he wasn't smiling at me, the tension in his shoulders had subsided.

"I'll take first watch, then, because I'm a pain in the ass," I told him, standing up and scouting around for one of the taller trees to perch on.

I expected the usual resistance but instead Yoshino nodded, and I watched him curl up and fidget as he rested against the tree, trying desperately to find a position that was comfortable. When I activated my Sharingan, it was easy to see when his chakra flow became slower, as his breathing grew deep and he drifted off into the usual half slumber that was common among missions.

With one hand on the sword at my waist and the other on my weapons pouch, I perched on one of the taller trees and got ready to wait out the night.

* * *

 **A/N:** oh wow, I'm back again after substantial delay as usual!

As always, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed/followed/faved or is even just silently reading and enjoying! I appreciate it so much! And thanks for the reviews this time, I love when people comment idk interesting things even if it's a critique. I love that stuff and love discussing things so if you wanna diss the plot, the characters or me, go right ahead hahahaha I'm down for it!

The last few chapters have definitely been build up ones so I apologise for that but I'm still really excited for things to come!


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

"The Kenta clan are mostly situated in the northern part of the Fire Country. We've received reports that they're scouting out further east, though," Yoshino said, drawing a map into the dirt with a stick as we rested for a short meal.

It was the end of the first week of travelling, and we hadn't seen a thing. Usually we were forbidden from going into the small villages littered throughout the Fire Country to ask the civilians questions, but this time it had been permitted. Either the civilians were lying or genuinely hadn't seen any mercenaries around.

The lack of progress in the mission was good, though. It gave me time to sort out my anger and frustration at Yoshino and redirect it towards something productive. I had a feeling he thought the same.

"Do you think they've left, then?" I asked.

He shook his head. "They're an odd mercenary clan, simply because of how powerful they are. They're not family. They don't owe loyalty, really. Whoever is the head of it is a genius, and has somehow found a way to keep and gain shinobi at a steady rate. Even when Tajima-sama went out and eradicated a great deal of them, they just gained them back. They've established power in the Fire Country. Leaving would weaken that power."

"Unless they were scared we would hunt them down."

"We've tried. They're difficult to find. Some of the Elders think that the Senju clan is aiding them, and that's why we haven't had any luck."

I didn't care about the Senju. Hashirama's small meeting with Madara was barely a worry to me. They weren't a worry.

It had been the Kenta clan who had killed Takeshi and Jin, not the Senju.

"I don't care about the Senju," I said, scuffing at the dirt map Yoshino drew. "Do you think they're aiding the Kenta clan?"

Yoshino smiled slightly. "I disagree. I think we would know if the Senju were aiding them. The obvious solution would be for them and the Senju to team up and eradicate us. Seeing as that hasn't happened, I doubt the Senju are aiding. However I highly doubt they would be outrightly attacking the Kenta clan, seeing as they're succeeding in wounding us."

"So they're just gonna wait and hopefully watch us die."

"No, what they're doing is far from waiting. The Senju still attack."

I tried to imagine bright eyed Hashirama attacking the Uchiha. It was impossible. But I could still smell the blood and the dirt from when all those injured shinobi had been lined up in the hallway, too many to fit into the healing room. There were no faces assigned to the victims or the perpetrators in that case, though. I didn't know any of those shinobi, nor any Senju except for Hashirama.

But I had known Takeshi and Jin. And I had seen them killed by the Kenta clan.

It was difficult to focus on two enemies at once, especially when I had never seen one in action before. I knew that the Senju were supposedly the _ultimate_ enemy of the Uchiha clan, but they didn't feel like it at the moment.

"So how much did Tajima wipe out, then, when he disappeared for ages?" I asked.

Yoshino shrugged. "A lot, but he could never find the leader, which is I suppose why the clan has lasted so long. Usually the leader is obnoxious and loves to rub it in that they're in charge of a huge clan and have a lot of power, even though they weren't born with it."

"So if we found the leader..."

"Kiyomi." Yoshino gave me an exasperated look. "We won't find the leader. I can guarantee it."

"Okay, but, you _can't_ because what if we do?"

"We won't. Their leader is clearly content to be in hiding."

But you could only hide for so long, I wanted to say. I wanted to change Yoshino's plan from simply scouting for information and clues for a base, and then killing if we met any. It would be better if we actively sought them out and raided the base. If there were no survivors, it would send a message to the leader, and make the entire clan think that the leader was weak for not being able to protect them.

Yoshino was adamant with the plan, though.

The second week was the same. We found evidence of a tiny camp, and when we spoke to the town nearby there had been shinobi passing through, wearing no distinct crest. I felt bare without the usual Uchiha crest on the side of my armour. It was necessary, though, because it was difficult to tell which towns were distrustful of which clans. Being unknown, even if it sometimes made the civilians more distrustful, was better than being a known enemy.

We ventured closer and closer to the border of the Land of Hot Water, which put Yoshino on edge.

"The forest is dense there. It's not our territory, either. It's no one's, which makes it even worse for disputes. The daimyo refuses to get involved with any shinobi affairs," he told me.

There was no distinct line that gave me any indication that there was a border, but Yoshino skirted a cliff every now and then, and then a stream the further we went along east.

"Surely they're there, then," I said during the beginning of the third week, as we camped in a cave. "If it's neutral, it makes sense for them to retreat."

Yoshino shook his head. "I don't think they've retreated."

"But Tajima hunted them down," I pressed. "Surely that's enough to send anyone into hiding."

"I don't think so. Maybe, but...I wouldn't count on it."

I wondered what Yoshino so certain about the Kenta clan's power. What his experiences with them were. Whether he had any siblings that had been killed by them.

It made me realise how little I actually knew about him, aside from his parents. Did he have friends his age? An arranged marriage on the table for him? I never saw him with anyone outside who I knew, except for the shinobi at Yoshino's party who he had claimed he didn't know that well.

His life seemed sad, and focused purely on being a shinobi.

"Did you—you seem to know a lot about them. Or you feel like you know them," I began, not sure how to word what I was going to say.

Yoshino frowned at me. There was only a small candle between us, and it casted shadows on his face that made him appear so much older.

"I know them as much as any active shinobi, I suppose," he said, shrugging.

"So you didn't—I don't know, I just thought maybe...you had a sibling and they were—I don't know."

Yoshino said nothing for a moment. I didn't know if I wanted him to have a sibling who was killed by the Kenta clan. Of course I didn't, but part of me wanted something to relate to him. He seemed untouchable and distant and part of another world, sometimes, and I wanted to drag him into my own.

"I did have a sibling," he said after awhile. "A younger sister. But no, she wasn't killed by the Kenta clan."

I swallowed, trying to force my expression to look normal and not intrusive.

He smiled at me. "It's okay. It was a long time ago. I don't mind talking about it. She was just really sick and we didn't have the resources. It was—she was only four."

"Were you close?"

"As close as we could be. I was only two years older, and by the time she could walk and talk...well, my father had begun to train me. I didn't see her a lot. But it was—she was amazing. Always so happy, which I could never understand."

I returned his smile, albeit shakily. "Happy people are weird. I always used to get confused when Jin was so carefree. But then it almost made it worse, because when he was serious you just _knew_ things were bad. If even he couldn't pretend like everything was fine, then it was all over. Takeshi was different, though. He was almost neutral about everything. Maybe it wasn't him being neutral, though. Maybe it was apathy, or sadness, and I just couldn't see it."

"I met them both," Yoshino said softly. "I know what you mean."

It was strange, to talk about something so personal while hunting down another clan. Nothing seemed dangerous, here, in this cave. There was just a small candle and an uncomfortable ground to sleep on.

At the beginning of the mission, we had been arguing. Now, I was talking about Takeshi and Jin.

I couldn't remember the last time I had directly talked about either of them in a positive way. I didn't even know if I ever had, after their deaths.

The night was a comfortable one. I fell asleep straight away while Yoshino sat at the mouth of the cave, keeping watch. When he woke me up for my own shift, I didn't even feel the usual wave of exhaustion creep over me as I stared out towards nothing.

I was content.

* * *

It took a lot of effort to convince Yoshino to go into the Land of Hot Water.

"I know this is a different mission to just spying," Yoshino said, irritated. "It doesn't, however, mean we can just run around doing what we want. We need to be careful about this."

"We've done _nothing_. We've found nothing. I refuse to return empty handed."

"Don't be silly. We won't return empty handed," he promised.

We were standing on the edge of the cliff we had skirted many times in the past few days. There had been no sign of anyone in the Fire Country, and none of the civilians in the nearby towns had reported any shinobi. The only tangible piece of evidence of the Kenta clan was the camp we had found in the second week, and it had been close enough to the Land of Hot Water to warrant investigation, in my opinion.

Yoshino stood there for a moment longer, staring down at the dense cluster of trees.

"This is gonna get us killed," he mumbled, but I watched him begin to scale down the cliff, drawing chakra to his hands and feet as he effortlessly sped down.

It took me a little more time. The rocks crumbled beneath my hands, and even though I knew they would stick — and if my hands didn't, my feet would — but the lengthy distance to the ground made me wince.

Down at the bottom, I realised how dense the forest was. I had thought some of the forests and foliage in the Fire Country was intense, but this was completely different. It almost felt like when we entered, it would be pure darkness, the sun not able to reach to the ground through the leaves.

I took the lead when Yoshino continued to stand there. It was warmer here, too, whereas spring in the Fire Country was always nice and mild. Here, though, it was moist and humid. There was nothing but trees, with no variation in them, and the occasional plant that sprouted white flowers.

"Conceal your chakra," Yoshino ordered. "And whatever you do, obey my orders. Don't be an idiot."

Without him prompting me, I activated my Sharingan as well. I couldn't see any glimpses of anyone ahead, but that didn't mean anything. I knew the Kenta clan were dangerous.

After barely an hour of traveling slowly, sweat was beading my brow. It wasn't just the heat, but the stress. The anticipation. Here, it felt more real, despite there being no proof of any sign of the Kenta clan.

 _They'll appear_ , the voice whispered in my hand, making me almost fall in shock at hearing it.

I waited for more, for something else, but my mind was quiet.

When it was night, there were no caves to rest in. There was forest and more forest. Yoshino scaled a tree to try and find a clearing or anything, but he could see nothing except for mountains in the distance and the cliff behind us.

"I don't think we should stop," Yoshino said, his voice quiet. It seemed loud, anyway. There was only the occasional rustle from some animal in the foliage and a gush of a breeze. Other than that, the silence was deafening.

"Let's keep going, then."

It was the first night this entire mission I had spent without sleep. We scrambled through the forest, but Yoshino avoiding heading straight to the mountains. He veered left, and I could tell he was going in a circle to try and establish where the Kenta clan were, and if they were closer to the border.

My hand gripped my sword the entire night. Yoshino's head darted back and forth in calculated ways, his Sharingan gleaming in the night. Each _thunk_ as our footsteps hit the trees echoed.

When Yoshino stopped in an instant, I almost slammed into his back. He grabbed my wrist, steadying me, staring straight ahead.

In the distance, I could recognise the familiar swirl of chakra coming from about ten people. I couldn't hear the voices, as they seemed to be too far away.

I didn't dare speak. It had to be the Kenta clan. Who else could it be? But they bore no recognisable symbol. Their only known trait was that they used poison. They didn't look alike.

It could be any group of people.

Yoshino turned around and headed back and I followed, until the swirls of chakra were no longer visible.

"We have to get closer," I said the moment we stopped.

He shook his head. "No. That would be stupid. We're outnumbered."

"You're strong. And I'm getting stronger. I can do this. I _want_ to do this, Yoshino. I—we've found _nothing_ this entire time. And this could be something. And we could stop them. They could be coming into the Fire Country, about to kill more Uchiha."

Yoshino closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. I wanted to shake him.

They were _so close_. And we had the element of surprise. It was easy. It would be easy.

 _Go. Ignore the pacifist. If he wants to stay, he can._

I took a deep breath. " _I'm_ going. Whether you come or not, I don't care."

Yoshino stared at me. "Kiyomi, that's—"

"This is our mission. This is what we came for. Just because you have some stupid overprotective bullshit happening with me doesn't allow you to stop us completing this. You told me to speak to Tajima to get better missions. I did. And here we are. So let's _go_."

Silence.

"Do not get injured," Yoshino said, voice flat. "If they use poison, you'll be gone. We have no cure. I doubt they'll be carrying one."

He took the lead without bothering to say anything else, charging ahead.

This time, he didn't stop at a safe distance.

 _Go, go, go, go!_ the voice chanted in my head.

I watched as the ten blobs of chakra got closer and closer and I quickly deactivated my Sharingan. They appeared through the trees, huddled before jumping up, swords out instantly.

Yoshino didn't hesitate before a katon erupted from his mouth, charging straight at the group. They scattered, rolling effortlessly, and without any communication with each other, five went towards Yoshino and the other five hurried towards me.

One of their swords was vibrated as it swung at me — a raiton, I recalled, distantly — and every second of my time was spent focusing on dodging, refusing to let the sword even nick my skin.

But it was difficult. Whenever Yoshino and I trained, I would always get small cuts. It was too difficult to avoid any wounds, so often I would let him nick me to put myself in a better position to attack and win.

I couldn't do that, though.

My hands fumbled around a katon and it erupted from my mouth, separating a few of them.

 _Now!_ the voice screamed.

I charged at one of them, managing to slice a wound down his side before he took control, the other four swarming me. I couldn't see or hear Yoshino.

It was just me, surrounded by five shinobi who I didn't even know if they were the Kenta clan or not.

 _Destroy them!_ the voice roared.

I could activate my Sharingan. But it was a last resort. They most likely knew we were Uchiha — they had seen Yoshino's red eyes — but if they didn't know I had it, I could use that against them.

Channeling chakra to my feet, I scaled a tree, trying to gain some ground on them and avoid a doton that had been about to cage me into the ground. One of them followed, whereas the other four separated, going up different trees to try and cut me off at the top.

I dropped on top of the one who had scaled my tree, knocking into him. He fell to the ground, rolling unevenly into a crouch. My roll was way more uneven than his. The ground met my arm and a wave of pain erupted from it. Sprained. Maybe. I couldn't tell. It didn't matter, either way.

The other four were right in front of me and I hadn't even noticed. Five swords swung at me, and I couldn't afford all five. I rolled and decided to risk it — they might not be Kenta, they could be random, and even if they were one of them could have cure, it would be fine, it would be _fine._

Angling myself closer to one of them so they would wound me on the side of my stomach, I swung my sword up and through his throat. It met the resistance of flesh and bone before sliding through.

It took a lot longer to slide out.

I yanked it and almost fell onto the dead shinobi's sword as I scrambled to get away from the shinobi approaching me, sword in hand.

Their faces were finally visible. It was dawn.

 _Move!_ the voice shrieked causing me to flinch.

The wound in my side was already burning, a clear sign of the poison Yoshino had warned me about.

They were the Kenta clan.

I could feel my entire body shutting down on me, my heart slowing until each beat was heavy and painful.

"Don't kill her yet!" someone barked as the shinobi crowded around me. Yoshino was gone. I couldn't see him.

My knees were on the ground. So was my sword.

I hadn't even noticed.

The shinobi who had barked the orders towered over me. He looked Yoshino's age.

"Do you know what happens if that wound remains untreated?" he asked me, his voice that faux casual that sounded ridiculous.

 _Death,_ the voice whispered.

When I didn't say anything, he grabbed my jaw, squeezing until I was worried the bone would snap.

"I asked you a question. I suppose you just think you don't have to respect people, being the great Tajima's daughter and all that."

I jolted, wondering how they could possibly know who I was, when I didn't have the Uchiha symbol on me _anywhere_. And every Uchiha looked the same. Had they been waiting? Had they known we were coming?

"Ask politely," I hissed. "Maybe then I'll answer."

He smiled, dropping his grip on my jaw. "You won't die. Not for awhile, at least. Maybe a day. Your heart will slow down, you'll struggle to breathe. Everything will be difficult. And painful, might I add. You won't be able to move. It'll take every effort to simple exist."

"So?" I hissed. "What, did you think I came out here to run around with the fairies?"

There were laughters from the three men that surrounded him.

 _We can destroy them all. We can do it. Just look at them, make them look at you, distract them, kill them!_

I could barely move. I wanted to find Yoshino, to stumble away from the shinobi who I didn't even care about and find him. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be.

 _Use it,_ the voice whispered. _He's looking right into your eyes. He thinks you don't have it. He thinks you don't know how._

But I didn't know how. Yoshino had showed me how to copy jutsu, how to track people's movements and hand signs easily. Never how to cast a genjutsu that was so powerful it would destroy someone, though. Ryuu had talked about it, and so had Madara. It was possible.

There were four left, including the one gripping my jaw and forcing me to look at him. I could kill him. I could look into his eyes and do it. I had done it before. I killed the man who had murdered Jin. It was possible.

"Maybe we'll stay around for it," the man continued. "To watch the great Tajima-sama's daughter fall."

 _Do it,_ the voice snapped, disrupting my thoughts.

"My name is Kiyomi," I said, looking him in the eyes. I felt the familiar sting as I activated my Sharingan. The man's eyes widened and tried to look away from my face, but I had him.

I let my mind take over the rest. I thought of Jin dying, of Takeshi dying, of being in a car with a best friend and it crashing because of stupidity. Being reborn. My mother in this world dying. Every time Madara and Izuna had been injured. Every time _Tajima_ had been injured.

There was so much pain and suffering. It was easy to push it all onto one person, and to relish in his screams. I didn't even have to kill him. He stabbed himself.

The adrenaline vanquished the pain. One man down. The other three were clamouring to kill me, now, not willing to wait that _one_ _day_ where it would be _so_ hard for me to _simply exist_.

It was a lot easier to kill people when they couldn't look at your face. Their eyes were on my arms, my feet, but either way they could never see my entire body as they tried their best to not look in my eyes.

Two men down.

One of them looked in my eyes. Three men down.

 _Yes, yes, yes!_ the voice screamed in my head. The voice had risen in octave and loudness. It felt like someone was right next to my ear, screaming into it.

The last one flung his sword to the side and dropped to his knees. " _Please!_ " he begged.

It was a disgusting sight. He had been laughing at me before.

"You can live," I told him, grabbing his chin and squeezing like the man had done. "You just have to give me the cure."

He stared at me. "I—"

"That wasn't a question. _Give me the cure_."

"It's not on me! We don't—it's not in a bottle or anything. It's a herb! I swear, you can find it around here. It grows in this place! If you just—I'll get it for you, I swear, if you just follow me! I promise!"

He was young. I could tell by the pitch, by the way it wobbled back and forth between high and low. Not just from fear. His eyes were brown. Hair blonde.

 _Who cares about how he looks!_

"Now," I snapped. "Move."

I didn't have long before I would pass out from exhaustion. I could feel the adrenaline fading. But I couldn't limp. I couldn't wheeze and cough up blood.

My sword was pressed against his neck the entire time as he hurried through the thick trees, dropping to his knees beside a plant that had white flowers growing on it that Yoshino and I had seen a few times.

"Just the leaves," he said, snapping one off and handing it to me. "I swear."

 _He could be lying,_ the voice whispered. _You shouldn't eat it._

But there was no choice. Yoshino didn't know the cure. If this idiotic young boy would lie to me, then everyone else in the Kenta clan would.

While still holding the sword to his neck, I bit into the leave, wincing at the bitter taste, until it was all gone. The boy stared at me with wide eyes, looking pathetic.

"I promise you, it'll work! Please, please. Just let me go."

I shoved the sword forward, watching as he stumbled, gurgling on his own blood before dropping to his knees. There were tears in his eyes.

"Y'know I begged for mercy to one of your own once. Not for me. But for my brother. And _he_ _didn't get any_."

The adrenaline was gone. I deactivated my Sharingan and crumpled to the ground, doing my best to pull in my chakra and hide it as much as possible. The blood was still pouring from the boy's throat, yet he remained unmoving. He had also pissed himself.

I focused on the acidic smell of urine, forcing myself not to cry. I was feeling better. My wound wasn't burning as much anymore. I had survived.

* * *

Drifting off was never a good idea in unknown territory. It happened, anyway, and when I woke to someone shaking me, I couldn't even muster the energy to pull a kunai on them.

It didn't matter, though, because it was Yoshino.

"Kiyomi? Kiyomi. Fucking hell. You—I thought you were dead."

I tried to give him a smile.

His hands began to flutter around the wound on my side.

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck, Kiyomi, _fuck_."

I'd never seen him like this. I hadn't thought it was impossible for Yoshino to be flustered, for his emotions to be so obviously on display. When training, he had always been cool and collected, and everyone spoke about how he was on missions. Efficient and quick on his feet.

I grabbed his hand. "Stop. We need to go."

Yoshino shook his head in disbelief. "How are you _not_ dead?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

I didn't want to tell him. His eyes were wide as he took in the wound. I knew he was looking at the colour of my skin, waiting for it to go pale.

"It wasn't poisoned?" he asked, looking at me.

I shook my head. "Thankfully."

He continued to stare. "Are you _sure_? You have to be certain. You don't feel anything at all?"

"Yoshino, it wasn't poisoned. They stabbed me and I still managed to get to them. It's a pretty shallow wound, anyway."

There was still disbelief on his face. I didn't want to admit what I had done. It was survival, I knew, but Yoshino was _so..._ idealistic. It felt weird.

And the fact that I didn't want to tell him made it feel even stranger. I cared for him, and I knew he cared for him. He probably knew I was lying. I could feel my eyes beginning to tear up as I struggled to figure out what to say.

"Kiyomi—"

"We need to move," I insisted, beginning to stand. I wobbled, grabbing onto Yoshino's shoulder.

He seemed fine. I didn't want to ask why he had left me. We had been separated. It had been strategic. They had known my name somehow. But part of me wanted to throw that back in his face and demand to know why he hadn't fought hard enough, or quickly enough. Why he _allowed_ this to happen when he was supposedly one of the youngest and greatest shinobi of the Uchiha clan.

My chest ached from holding back tears. There was anger developing, too, as if my mind couldn't decide which emotion to pick and release because I had buried all of them while killing people. The voice was damningly silence, as if it wanted me to stew in my tumultuous emotions and decide for myself what to do.

Yoshino supported me the entire way back to the cliff we had scaled. Every movement to climb it was painful. The wound wasn't even that deep. It was exhaustion, from my body fighting off the poison. We found a cave, and by the time I fell to my knees near the entrance, the sun was fully up.

He stitched my wound up.

"Are you okay?" Yoshino asked.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to come out clear.

Before bandaging the wound tightly, he scrutinised it one last time.

"We need to go over a plan for what happens if we get separated like that again," Yoshino began, sitting back on his feet. "You can't just—I know it's not your fault, but you cannot just lie on the ground and take a nap."

"I wasn't _taking a nap_. I—I passed out. I used a lot of energy."

"I know, but you need to make some effort to move away from where you just killed people from a mercenary clan. But that's not the point. We need a point where we can meet back if anything happens. And then, for example, if you get back here and I don't come back for another two days, you return home."

I stared at him. "What? No. I'll look for you."

"No, you won't. You'll most likely end up dead. I don't mean because you're weak. But you'll be alone. The Uchiha clan _rarely_ travel alone, unless you're specifically trained to infiltrate or assassinate."

"I can't just leave here knowing that you could be out there alive."

Yoshino shrugged. "If I am out there alive, I would probably be close to death anyway. Kiyomi, listen, this is how it goes. If the positions were reversed I—then I would have to leave, too."

I closed my eyes. Part of me wanted to scream at Yoshino to _stop_.

"This cave, then?" I forced myself to say.

"No. We're going home after you rest. I meant for next time."

I wanted to argue. There weren't enough Kenta dead. Only five. That's all I had managed. And we didn't even know anything for certain.

But that wasn't true. I knew a cure. I knew that somehow, they knew my name. Wasn't that something?

"Rest," Yoshino insisted. "Stop thinking. Just let yourself heal."

I nodded. Even though the ground was flat and uncomfortable and painful on my side, I closed my eyes and drifted off to the sound of Yoshino breathing.

* * *

The man lay on the ground, screaming endlessly. His arms and legs were sprawled out as if they were broken, his head twisted at an odd angle. Even the scream was guttural.

His scream blended into another one, this one more familiar. Jin. And then Takeshi's childlike scream, his face with his eyes ripped out staring at me, pleading with me.

The scene changed.

There was a tree before me. It looked normal, except for the odd fruit growing out of it that I had never seen before, and the black shadows that seemed to surround the tree. There was a stone, behind it, with words written on it that I couldn't recognise.

This wasn't real. I knew it. Everything felt distant and detached, as if there was someone else experiencing this. Not me.

The scene changed again.

I was on a road. The asphalt looked melted. The car in front of me was melted, oozing and blending in with the road. I walked closer, the guttural screams beginning to start up again and grow louder and louder.

There were two people in the car. Their bodies were melting into the seats, their faces covered in burns and cuts and blood, eyeballs bulging. There was a vivid smell of burnt flesh and hair.

A flash of pain hit me, like when you press your palm to a hot saucepan. But the flash didn't go away. It spread, deepening until it was radiating from inside me. There was pressure all around my chest, and when I looked down I was surrounded by crumpled metal, sharp bits digging into my ribs and I couldn't breathe from the smoke or the blood gurgling in my throat and someone else was beside me screaming, pleading, begging for mercy but there was no distinct killer I could see.

The metal crumped further around me until it pierced my entire body and I scrambled awake, my heart pounding in my chest. The cave was starting to get dark, and a candle flickered, Yoshino's face appearing above me.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I touched my ribs and my throat. Normal, except for the bandage wrapped around my side. It was nothing.

"Fine. Just a nightmare," I said shortly, lying back down onto the uncomfortable ground and turning my back to him, willing the tears away.

There was no noise but his breathing for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

How could I possibly explain my nightmare when to Yoshino, when part of it made no sense? But there was a part that _did_ make sense.

I didn't think I could ever forget my brothers' death. It seemed imprinted in my brain, like some fucked up tattoo.

"They killed Takeshi and Jin," I said, my voice hoarse, turning towards him.

It was as if that oppression of emotions when my brothers died was bubbling to the surface due to the nightmare, ready to erupt out of me at any possible moment.

Yoshino looked exhausted, his skin coated thickly in blood, sweat and dirt. I wanted to apologise for my behaviour, for insisting on this mission even though I had _known_ it would hurt. It would hurt me. But I had wanted that. Somehow, I correlated that with strength. If I was hurt, I would grow. I would mend and improve and be better.

"Revenge won't solve anything," he told me, his voice quiet.

I know, I wanted to say. But did I? All I knew was the slaughtering this clan, making sure that none of them saw the light of day ever again made it so they would never kill anyone again. Even the five today, it had satisfied _nothing_. I didn't know them. I wanted the leader, laid out before me in glorious detail.

The young boy flashed through my mind instead. His begging. His face covered with tears. How he had given me the cure.

"You cannot take out a whole mercenary clan, Kiyomi." Yoshino's voice was gentle. "They aren't linked by blood. You leave one behind, twenty more will rise and come after you."

"I won't leave one behind."

"Kiyomi. We need to head back. It's a long journey. Today was—we need to go."

I didn't know if I had enough energy within me to make it back. This was the longest I had ever gone without seeing the compound. Nearly an entire month spent with only Yoshino, plunging through forest after forest, Yoshino recording things down in a scroll. All I had done was killed a few shinobi. Nothing remarkable. We hadn't even discovered anything that concrete about their whereabouts.

But —

The plant. I knew I should turn to Yoshino. That I should tell him.

In the dark, it seemed safer. His judgement was concealed.

"I did get poisoned," I said before I could stop myself. I heard him shift, but I rolled so I was on my back, eyes closed. "I did. But I—I managed to kill all of them surrounding me except one. This young boy. And I asked him for the cure. I said I'd kill him if he didn't give it to him and...well, he did obviously. But it didn't seem like enough. Him giving me the cure wasn't enough."

I stopped, not wanting to say the words _He had to give me his life._

Yoshino's hand brushed mine, grabbing it and squeezing. "It doesn't matter."

"That wasn't your attitude before."

"I wasn't there, Kiyomi. I could never judge."

"You said that killing people just causes a cycle. I could've spared that boy. Maybe disrupted the cycle for a moment. I didn't, though. And I had the gall to tell Madara to have _empathy_ when he went out and fought before. Even though I have none. I have no empathy. Or I do, but it's selective. And maybe that doesn't even count, then."

Yoshino shook his head. "It counts, Kiyomi. Whatever kindness you can afford, it counts. Trust me."

I turned away from him. I didn't want him to see me cry. But I knew he could hear it, still, hear my muffled gasps of breath as I struggled to keep the tears in. He didn't do anything. He just sat there, breathing and breathing.

The night was spent lying there. Neither of us talked about who was guarding and staying on watch. Maybe we both were. I stayed awake for most of the night, staring out of the mouth of the cave. I could see the Land of the Hot Water spread out below, though it just looked like a gaping pit of darkness.

When the sun rose, I got up. Yoshino remained on the ground, half dozing. I changed the bandage on my wound, pinching the skin around it. It looked normal. Not infected or poisoned in the slightest.

Without waiting for Yoshino's opinion, I scaled the cliff once more, hurrying into the forest, Sharingan activated. The plants with the white flowers were there, even on the edge of it, and I collected some of the leaves and tucked them into my kunai pouch.

Yoshino stood at the top of the cliff, staring down at me as I hurried back up. I showed him the leaves.

"This is what cured me. I don't know if they use the same poison for everything, but just in case. It would be good to have."

"Good thinking."

We started the journey back home in silence. It was a direct one. We didn't stop at any towns to ask if they had seen any mercenaries pass through. Our nights were spent restlessly, and I knew Yoshino was as eager as I was to return home.

Home.

Where the panic, the adrenaline, the constant feeling of being on edge, the constant vision of that young boy would be gone.

I knew the moment we were back in Uchiha territory when the tension in Yoshino's shoulders almost vanished completely. He was still tense, but there was a small smile on his lips as we hurried closer and closer to the compound.

The small building was heavily guarded as Yoshino and I approached. They bowed lowly at the sight of us, one of them stepping forward.

"Yoshino-san, Kiyomi-san," he greeted. "Tajima-sama requests a full report immediately."

"Of course." Yoshino's was tired, delivering the words without a second glance as we walked into the compound.

It was early, yet I had no doubt that Tajima had been woken up once the sensor-nin guarding the compound had realised we were coming. Yoshino led the way through the hallways.

Just as I suspected, Tajima was seated at his desk, yet no scrolls were in front of him. Instead, there was a tray of food containing breakfast, presumably served for us.

"Tajima-sama," Yoshino said, dropping to his knees at once. I stayed standing.

My father nodded, glancing briefly at me before he gestured towards the tray of food served. "Please, help yourself."

Both Yoshino and I sat across from him, though where as I piled as much food as I could fit into my bowl, Yoshino remained still, his hands resting on his lap.

"How was the mission?" Tajima asked, eyes flickering between us both.

"Quite informative. I've recorded everything in the scroll, as per usual, and Kiyomi will of course submit her own report of what happened over the past month." Yoshino handed him the scroll.

Tajima took it, eyes flickering over the information. "Anything of great importance that you wish to elaborate on?"

"One of the shinobi Kiyomi fought against revealed an antidote for a poison. It's from a plant in the Land of Hot Water. The leaves of a white flower. It eradicated the poison very quickly. We collected some, but perhaps it would be wise to figure out a way to create a lasting antidote from the plant, and to send shinobi to scout it."

I focused on the food. It was _real_ food. Not dried shit. I didn't care what they were saying, anyway. I knew it all.

"They also knew Kiyomi's name. I'm not sure if that's cause for alarm or was simply just a guess from the Kenta, however I think it's important to consider all possibilities."

Tajima nodded, sealing the scroll. "Of course, of course. Thank you, Yoshino. You may leave us, considering Kiyomi has decided to settle and devour three days worth of food without saying anything."

I hid my scowl. Yoshino nodded and bowed, touching me gently on the shoulder before leaving.

"Is there anything you would like to add, when you've decided to take a proper breath between each mouthful?"

I swallowed audibly. "I think Yoshino said it all."

Tajima smiled. "Of course. Well, then, at least give me your opinion. Was this mission what you wanted? What you were hoping for?"

My chopsticks clattered against the bowl. What had I hoped for?

Revenge, maybe. But how could you quantify revenge? Was it an amount of dead bodies? Was it the amount of satisfaction I felt afterwards?

There had been little satisfaction. Just relief at being alive. And anger at not being strong enough.

"It was a start," I said eventually. "It was a beginning. A place to go from."

"You wish to keep going, then?"

I shrugged. "It feels...maybe it's too late to stop, even if I wanted to."

Tajima shook his head. His hands were still folded in his lap, but they twitched, as if he wanted to reach over and grab my hand. "It's never too late. You can always stop. You have that choice."

"Not everyone has that choice, though. And if not everyone has that choice, then I shouldn't have it, either. I don't want to stop, anyway. It doesn't matter. I'm going to keep going. But I—this time, I think I would appreciate a break."

"You deserve a break, Kiyomi," Tajima said, his tone difficult to discern. "Go. Rest. Greet your brothers and friends. I know they've missed you."

 _And you_ , I wanted to say. Had he missed me?

But as I stood up to go, Tajima's eyes weren't even on me. His hands were no longer twitching in his lap. He wasn't even reading Yoshino and I's mission scroll. He had pulled up some other scrolls that had been hidden, and was reading them intently.

I didn't slam the door as I left, even though I wanted to. It wouldn't solve anything, anyway.

* * *

 **A/N:** didn't think I'd get this out in time buuuuut I did! Somehow!

As always, thank you so much for your reviews/follows/faves! I really appreciate it, and I'm always keen to hear what people think whether it's through here or my tumblr. I hope you're all doing well and enjoying winter/summer wherever you are in the world!


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